Our Happy Ending
by ChidoriQueen
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is in trouble yet again. When the principal threatens him with expulsion if his grades and behavior don't improve, he reluctantly accepts the offer of being tutored and joins the Oyster Club- a club for delinquents to discuss personal issues. However, his negative outlook changes when he crosses paths with former childhood friend Elizaveta Héderváry. PruHun AU.
1. Chapter 1

_The two children sat on the lush green field filled with the colors of springtime, laughing as they plucked dandelions and blew the light seeds into the air. The sky was a gorgeous blue, and only couple of puffy white clouds floating hazily in the distance._

_The five year-old boy with snow-white hair and scarlet eyes finished weaving a wreath of violet and cobalt wildflowers, a wide grin__ spreading across his face as he placed it in his best friend's soft chestnut hair. The girl giggled, securing the wreath on her head before leaning in and giving him a kiss on the cheek, "Thanks, Gil. It's so pretty."_

_He nodded happily as she leaned her head on his shoulder, watching as a monarch butterfly fluttered past them. "Hey, Liz..."_

_"What is it?"_

_"When we're all grown-up...do you think that we could...will you marry me?"_

_"You want me to marry you? Well...okay."_

_The innocent toddlers grinned at each other, and Gil quickly created two rings out of dandelion stalks, placing one in her open palm. "We'll have to make a promise then."_

_"What kind of promise?" Liz looked at her friend quizzically, her jade eyes shining with excitement._

_He took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. "Okay...I, Gilbert, swear to marry Elizaveta once I'm old enough."_

_"I, Elizaveta, swear to marry Gilbert once I'm old enough," she echoed breathlessly._

_He smiled at her. "So it's done. We can't break this promise, okay? We're going to have a happy ending, I promise you. I swear on my life, Elizaveta. A fairytale ending."_

XXX

Gilbert Beilschmidt groaned as he banged his head dejectedly against the hard surface of his desk. Another flunked history test. And most likely a D for the semester. He really hated school. It was just so dull and pointless, and he probably had the attention span of a goldfish. Or a flea. He didn't really care.

His friend Antonio leaned over from his seat to Gil's right, sighing and shaking his head, speaking in his light Spanish lilt, "Another one? I'm sorry, amigo."

"Would you quit throwing random Spanish into our conversations?" he snapped irritably, huffing as he leaned back onto the back of his chair. "It fucking makes my brain hurt. I'm flunking that subject as it is. And don't even think about lecturing me about it, Tony."

Antonio frowned slightly, forehead creasing. "You read my mind. Pero-"

"What the hell did I just say? And I know you're going to mention Ludwig right about now. I don't need to know about what a genius he is, or that I should manage to juggle getting straight As and being the student council president just like him. I'm just not like that...okay?" Gil paused, before groaning and banging his head on his desk once more. "God, this really sucks. What the hell am I going to do now?"

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" his history teacher said sharply, glaring at him through her horn-rimmed spectacles. "Do you have something to share with the class?"

"No, ma'am," Gilbert mumbled, averting his scarlet eyes away from her. As soon as she turned back to the blackboard and continued teaching her lesson, he shot her an icy glare and mumbled under his breath. "Bitch."

Elizaveta tapped her pencil against her chin as the teacher droned on and on about The Protestant Reformation, jotting down notes every so often. As the student council's secretary, first chair cellist in the orchestra, and star player on her field hockey team, she had to keep her reputation and status among the school's social hierarchy by receiving top grades.

Her eyes flickered to the chattering boys that were sitting a couple of seats to her left. Couldn't they have at least made an effort to conceal their whispers? It was like they were trying to be loud.

"Elizaveta?"

She snapped out of her daze, blinking a couple of times before smiling weakly, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, ma'am? What is it?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Um...sorry. I sort of spaced out."

The teacher sighed, before repeating herself in her usual impatient tone, "I said that Principal Vargas wants you to see him during one of your free periods. He didn't give me any details, but he said that he had something important to discuss with you."

Liz gulped, hoping that she wasn't in any sort of trouble. Her test scores never fell below an A-, and as far as she remembered, she had perfect attendance, was always on time for class, usually paid attention, never skipped field hockey practice, and couldn't recall ever being disruptive or negatively getting his attention. So what was wrong? "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Class dismissed!"

XXX

Her palms were clammy and pale as she creaked open the door to the principal's office, saying in a small voice. "Excuse me? My name is Elizaveta Héderváry. Mr. Vargas wanted to see me-"

"Yes, he informed me. Right this way, Ms. Héderváry." The secretary adjusted her glasses before nodding at her curtly, beckoning her over with a crimson-colored talon.

Liz tried to restrain a squeak. God, she was screwed. Something very bad was about to happen to her; her gut feeling told her. The secretary inclined her head toward her, her rose pink lips curling up as if to say 'good luck', before she walked away, high heels sending echoes through the office.

She knocked gingerly on the door, quickly turning the knob as she heard a weak 'come in'. Liz obliged reluctantly, pulling the door open and coming face to face with a smiling Mr. Vargas. His desk was crowded with messy papers and mementos from students; a porcelain dolphin that was carved with the word 'Cancun', a plastic apple, a tiny statue of a stack of books, among other little trinkets and ornaments.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Vargas," she managed to say, giggling nervously. "How are you today?"

He frowned at her, before letting out a brisk laugh, amber eyes lighting up. "No need to be so anxious, my dear. You're not in trouble. Quite the contrary, actually. I have some wonderful news for you, Ms. Héderváry."

"Um...oh...so that's all it is?"

"Of course. I wouldn't joke around like that." He gave her a kind grin, before he went back to serious principal mode.

His brow furrowed as he spoke hesitantly, "So, Ms. Héderváry...we have a student. He's been failing most of his classes, getting into fights, receiving detentions on a daily basis etc. And he's on the verge of expulsion. So his teachers and I thought that if he had a role model to get him back on track and tutor him occasionally, things might start to look up for him. You're running The Oyster Club with Ms. Sofia Braginski, right? And today's the first meeting?"

She nodded quickly, relieved that nothing serious was happening to her. All she had to do was tutor some idiot? Piece of cake.

"I'll give him the option of joining that for a bit of extra credit. So once school's over, I'll call him to the office and talk to him. I'm pretty sure that he'll take the option of joining the club- most of the students do. You'll meet him there, introduce yourself, and so on and so forth. Is that okay with you? I don't want to force you into anything. I know you're a busy girl-"

"No, no, it's alright. I'll do it. No harm in helping out the student body," she forced out in a cheery voice, chancing a wide grin.

"Great. I contacted your mother about it yesterday afternoon, and she said that it would be fine if you tutored him at your house after school every day. She also informed me that she was well-acquainted with the boy's family, and that she wouldn't mind at all if he came over. I'm glad that you feel the same way, Ms. Héderváry."

She nodded, turning around to exit the office before she realized that she hadn't asked the most important question because of her anxiety. "Sorry, one more question. Who exactly am I tutoring?"

XXX

"Gilbert Beilschmidt to the office, Gilbert Beilschmidt to the principal's office."

Gil groaned as soon as he heard the announcement, stepping out of his algebra classroom. Just what he needed- the icing on the cake for his really suckish day. He wondered if the old man had found out that he had gotten into a quick fight with one of the soccer players three days ago, or whether he was getting yet another detention for another stupid reason.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

His other best friend, Francis, frowned at him, clucking his tongue in disappointment. "What did you do this time, Gilbert?"

"Nothing too serious," he retorted. "Nothing that should get me suspended or something dumb like that. Just tell the coach that I'm probably going to be late. See you later, Francey-pants."

He walked away briskly before his friend could argue, sighing dejectedly as he glanced at his watch. His coach and teammates would probably clobber him once he finally got to practice for not being on time again.

As soon as he arrived at the principal's office, even before he could blink, the door was shoved open, and a thin, gawky woman stared at him, clipboard in hand. "Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

Great, he was famous. More like infamous.

"Yeah, the principal wanted to see me," he mumbled, trying not to sound too hostile, despite how difficult it actually was. Damn, he really hated high school. "What does he want?"

"You'll have to see." She grabbed one of his thick arms, and dragged him to the door to Mr. Vargas' office. "Good luck, Beilschmidt."

The secretary opened the door, and pushed him inside, before closing the door with a loud thud.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beilschmidt," the principal gave him a pleasant smile that was very obviously fake. So obvious that Gil wondered if the old man was insulting him. "How are you on this lovely day? Take a seat."

He really wanted to punch that geezer in the face, before fibbing quickly and sitting down on the wooden chair in front of Mr. Vargas' desk. "I'm fine."

"Great. However...it appears that your progress reports most certainly are not," he turned his desktop computer around, showing him all of the crap his teachers were spouting out about him to send to his parents; lack of effort, not paying attention in class, often coming in late, flunking all of his tests, etc.

"You're on the verge of expulsion, Mr. Beilschmidt. If you want to stay in this school, you're going to have to get your act together."

XXX

"Gilbert Beilschmidt?" she spluttered, trying to contain her surprise. "The delinquent? You want me to tutor him? B-but-"

Her heart contracted at the thought of the idiot. He was the last idiot that she wanted to get involved with, especially since she was going to have to put up with a dozen of them in The Oyster Club. She would have preferred anyone else. And that most certainly wasn't an exaggeration. Even the pyro sophmore chick seemed like a saint compared to him.

Liz pinched her forearm and squeezed her eyes shut, praying that she was dreaming. However, when she opened her eyes, she was met with the confused face of her principal, a fading red spot on her arm, and bitter, harsh reality. Was it too late to change her mind?

"Is there anything wrong, Ms. Héderváry?" his tone was light, inquisitive.

She hesitated for a moment, but her mouth moved on her own. The conscious side of her brain seemed to be asleep as she vaguely heard herself say, "No, there isn't a problem. I'll do it. Thanks for the offer, Mr. Vargas."

Liz wanted to slap herself then; she should have said no while she had the chance. Curse that kissing-ass side of her that just couldn't let the principal of her high school down despite the fact that she was facing certain death and humiliation. What the hell was she supposed to do now? The prospect of actually confronting her former best friend after years of almost no contact was daunting. They hadn't had a real conversation since middle school, actually tried to avoid each other during class or even in the hallways, but the feelings of resentment were definitely there.

_What have you gotten yourself into, Liz? Damn it...you idiot._

XXX

"Expulsion?" Gil gaped. "Are you serious?"

"You've proven yourself to be irresponsible, and if it goes on like this, I'm afraid that that's what will have to happen, Mr. Beilschmidt. You should feel grateful that we're giving you a warning, and I have an offer for you, young man."

He groaned internally. Expulsion?

"I've already talked to a student that agreed to be your tutor. She's a very smart and considerate young lady, and most of her classes are AP ones. Ask her questions about the curriculum and she'll be able to answer them without a problem," Mr. Vargas gave him a serious nod, amber eyes boring into his scarlet ones. "You'll be able to meet every day after school."

Gil nodded slowly, before he realized something, opening his mouth to argue, "But football practice-

The principal interrupted him curtly, eyebrows knitting together. "I talked to your coach. He said that since your academic record isn't looking up, he'll have to kick you off the team. So that's taken care of. Well, it's more like you're on probation. Once you're ready, he'll let you back on the team. I know you're a talented athlete-"

"Wait, you can't just kick me off the team!" Gil protested angrily, slapping a hand down on one of the chair's armrests. "Mr. Vargas-"

"No buts, Mr. Beilschmidt. You're going to be tutored, and unless you start averaging at least a B, you're not allowed to rejoin the team or any other non-academic extracurricular activities inside school. That's my final decision," the principal said sharply, watching with narrowed eyes as the boy slouched even further down in his seat. "However, there's one exception."

"And what would that be?" Gil asked, uninterested, voice dripping with sarcasm. Man, he was really pissed. An F in history, his less-than-satisfactory progress report, a meeting with his least favorite old geezer, and now he had to quit the football team in favor of being tutored by some complete stranger?

"The Oyster Club. If you join, I can offer you a bit of extra credit," the principal tapped his pencil on the surface of his desk, eyeing the boy calculatingly.

"The Oyster Club? What the hell is that?" he snapped irritably. But he really could use the extra credit, especially if he wanted to rejoin the football team as soon as possible.

"After school, every day...hmm, how should I put this...?" Mr. Vargas pondered it for a moment, before snapping his fingers."Troublemakers in all grades and meet up, discuss their personal issues, go to and participate in charity events, and learn how to become proper members of society. That's basically what it is, in a nutshell. Your new tutor is the co-leader of the club. So after the meetings, you two can have your cozy tutoring sessions. Is that alright for you, Mr. Beilschmidt? It's a good deal, so I don't think you have any reason to turn it down."

Gilbert grudgingly admitted that the old geezer was right- it was a decent deal, considering how much trouble he had caused since his freshman year. He was lucky that he hadn't been threatened with expulsion until that moment. "Alright, sure. I'll join your stupid club."

He stood up, yawned, and stormed angrily out of the room, not even curious as to who his tutor actually was. Not that he cared anyways.

It was going to be hell no matter who was unlucky enough to have to deal with him.

XXX

She had watched one of his football games once, out of curiosity, even if she wasn't particularly interested in the sport. He was the quarterback, according to her best friend Lili, and she had to admit that he was talented. Gilbert was light on his feet, nimble, seemed to get along with his teammates decently, and his face would brighten like she hadn't seen in ages. She felt a wave of nostalgia at that point, but the pragmatic side of her brain quashed it immediately.

He had chosen other things over her. He had decided that their once close-knit relationship would fall apart just because he wanted it to. He had decided that she didn't mean a thing to him anymore. He wanted to walk on a different path than she did. He chose to forget the promise of marriage and a fairytale ending.

But why did she care? They were idealistic children. Promises meant absolutely nothing when you were five. So why did she feel like her trust had been betrayed? Why did she keep the wildflower wreath he had crafted for her all of those years ago safe in a plastic bag, hidden in her nightstand drawer?

Every time she thought about him, she firmly told herself to stop being stupid. So he wanted to avoid her and stop being friends? Fine. She didn't want to have to depend on him anyways. Their friendship falling entirely apart was inevitable. She didn't regret anything.

Yes, that was right. Nothing that involved that idiot mattered to her anymore. She wanted to forget about him entirely and move on with her life. He wasn't important. Now that she was officially his tutor, their relationship was entirely forced, unwanted, and exclusively business-like. She vowed that it wouldn't be anything more than that. There was no way she was going to trust that loser with her heart ever again. Ever going to let him on her true feelings.

Her lips curled in a triumphant smirk. _Bring it on, Beilschmidt._


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert looked at the index card the secretary had handed him when he had exited the office. Room 206. If he recalled correctly, it was a science classroom that had fallen out of use. He hesitated, before kicking open the door, only to be met by the smell of sulphur and some other strange chemicals.

A group of bored and silent students glanced irritably at the disturbance. Gilbert forced a grin, uncomfortably aware of the tension between him and his new club-mates. Finally, after a bit of awkwardness, they all went back to doing whatever they had been doing previously, much to his relief. He gingerly sat down next to a peacefully-dozing and oblivious senior with shaggy brown hair that reached his shoulders.

Less than a minute after he sat down, the door swung open, and a young woman with short white hair bounced into the room, wearing a white collared shirt, an almost transparent lavender skirt that swept around her ankles, and brick-red pumps. "Good afternoon, everyone!"

Everyone in the room muttered a greeting. She gave them a dazzling smile, before frowning and sticking her head out of the door and shouting, "Elizaveta, dear! Hurry up!"

Gilbert almost froze. Elizaveta? As in Elizaveta Héderváry? The goody-two-shoes student council secretary? Why the hell would she be in a club for delinquents? Unless there was some other Elizaveta that he didn't know about. He still held onto a small sliver of hope as he sat up straighter and held his breath, eyes intently locked onto the door.

But as usual, luck wasn't in his favor. The last person that he wanted to see practically sulked into the room, carrying a manilla folder, a stack of loose leaf, and a small plastic case filled with pencils. Her mouth was in a straight line, and it was obvious she was trying not to scowl. She dropped the items onto the teacher's desk, before pulling a chair to one of the counters near the front of the room, resting her chin on her palms.

The woman gave them all a cheerful wave, aqua eyes scanning the room for a moment. Her lips upturned in a gentle smile as she closed the door, the click of her heels sending echoes through the nearly empty classroom. She leaned against the teacher's desk, before clapping her hands energetically, her out-of-place enthusiasm greeted with a couple of blank stares from her club. "Alright, we should get started."

Gilbert snuck a look at Elizaveta, watching as she stared pointedly at a wad of old gum on the counter. She glanced up, narrowing her forest-green eyes as she caught him staring at her. They locked eyes for a moment, before she looked away, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Ms. Braginski, an art teacher for the freshmen and sophomores. This is my first year teaching as this school, and it's a pleasure to meet you all. I know some of you from my classes, but we should introduce ourselves in a fun way. Elizaveta, dear, please pass out the paper and pencils."

Elizaveta nodded stiffly, standing up and complying with the teacher's request. She slapped a pencil and the sheet of paper down onto the sleeping boy's desk, effectively waking him up and causing him to rub his eyes groggily. The girl's eyes flickered away as she gave Gilbert the materials, refusing to say anything as she sulked back to the front of the room.

"Elizaveta is the co-leader of the club. The student council wanted someone to supervise and co-lead the new club to make sure everything runs smoothly." Ms. Braginski smiled angelically at the girl, but Gil wasn't pay attention, "and Liz was the number one candidate."

Didn't Mr. Vargas say that the co-leader of the club was going to be his tutor? So that meant...

Elizaveta Héderváry was his tutor? Of all the smartass girls in the school it could have been, it just _had_ to be her?

Curse his bad luck. He mentally banged his head on the desk once more. The thought of her tutoring him was overwhelming.

"So, as an introduction activity, since I'm not familiar with most of you, I'd like you all to write three things about yourself on the piece of paper, fold it in half, and pass it to me. I'll read them out loud, and we all have to guess who it is."

Gil stared blankly at his sheet of paper. He thought for a moment, before the scratch of his pencil against loose-leaf sounded through the room. He slowly wrote in his loopy handwriting: "1. My favorite sport is football. 2. I hate Gatorade. 3. Glee is the worst TV show ever known to man."

Everyone else reluctantly joined in, muttering under their breaths as Ms. Braginski beamed. "Why don't you join in too, Elizaveta? Most of our club members don't know you very well."

Liz nodded stiffly, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil for herself. Moments later, she had immersed herself in scribbling on the loose-leaf.

After the sounds subsided and as Elizaveta made another trip around the room to collect the folded papers, Ms. Braginski instructed, "Now, let's just say our names and what grade we're in. Natalya, why don't we start with you?"

There was a scuffling sound as everyone turned around to follow the teacher's line of vision. He spotted a girl with long, dirty blonde hair and cerulean-violet eyes that was sitting slouched in her seat, shuffling a deck of cards in boredom. She wasn't even trying to conceal the murderous glare on her face. Gilbert recognized her as Natalya Braginski- the pyrotechnic chick that everyone tried to avoid. He had heard rumors that she had been locked up in a juvenile detention center during her middle school years as a result of torching a couple of billboards and her neighbor's mailbox. It was hard to believe that she was related to the happy-go-lucky teacher standing right in front of them.

The girl muttered darkly, "Natalya Braginski. Sophomore."

A boy with sun-blonde hair and forest-green eyes, large eyebrows that were knit together, and what seemed like a permanent scowl on his face glanced around the room, before saying in a thick British accent,"Arthur Kirkland. I'm a senior."

A younger student with dark blonde hair that was disheveled and stuck up in all directions, his glasses slipping slowly off of his nose, said in an obnoxiously loud voice, "Alfred Jones. Sophomore. The stupid-looking dude who just said his name is my cousin."

Arthur shot him an icy glare, crossing his arms.

Elizaveta said in a flat tone, twirling a strand of her thick chestnut in her fingers, staring determinedly at it, "Elizaveta Héderváry. Junior."

Another blondie with green eyes ran his fingers lovingly through his long hair that reached his shoulders, proclaiming proudly, "Feliks Łukasiewicz. Senior and last year's prom king."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but refrained from commenting.

"Sadiq Annan. Freshman," a rather buff-looking brunette said gruffly, his eyes concealed by a pair of sunglasses, which struck Gilbert was rather odd, considering that it was cloudy outside.

"Lovino Vargas." A dark-haired boy that Gilbert recognized to be the twin of Elizaveta's close friend Feli raised his hand lazily. "I'm a junior."

The once-sleeping boy beside Gil mumbled sleepily, yawning he said, "Her-Her-Heracles Karpusi...I'm a freshman."

Gilbert blinked a couple of times, before realizing that all eyes were on him. He was flustered for a moment, before he put on his confident smile. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. The awesome junior."

"That's everyone, isn't it? Wonderful!" Ms. Braginski trilled, before sifting through the pile of papers on the desk, closing her eyes as she snatched one up. She squinted to read the tiny print, before speaking in a clear voice. " '1. I'm a model. 2. My favorite quote is from Coco Chanel- 'a girl must be two things: classy and fabulous.' 3. My mother is a Polish fashion designer.' "

All eyes were on Feliks within seconds. He was the only one in the room who could possibly be a model. While everyone looked immensely casual and/or shabby in faded jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers, he wore a black blazer and royal purple tie over a button-down shirt, designer skinny jeans, and dress shoes. Plus he would be the only one in the club to refer to himself as a girl, considering that the two biologically female people in the room could hardly be described as "fabulous" and "classy". And as far as they all knew, no one else had a Polish fashion designer for a mother.

"Łukasiewicz," Arthur finally grunted after a moment of awkward silence, biting into a Ritz cracker.

"Excellent job, Arthur. Alright...let's see...'1. I like Marvel comics. 2. Hamburgers are my favorite food. 3. I cried at the end of Toy Story 3.'...?"

He snickered at the last one. "Is it Elizaveta?"

"Seems valid," Natalya murmured, the corners of her lips curled in a teasing smirk.

Elizaveta turned around in her seat to scowl at him, rolling her eyes. "It's Alfred, you dumbass. That joke wasn't even funny."

Alfred pouted at her, before pointing at her indignantly. "Hey, how did you guess? My plan was entirely foolproof-"

Arthur scowled at him, slamming a hand onto his desk, "No, it bloody wasn't, you nitwit-"

Alfred stuck his tongue out at him. "Shut up, dude! You're just jealous of my awesomeness-"

"Of what? You stupid little git-"

Elizaveta shot them both murderous glares, silencing them immediately. After a couple of moments of silence, she inclined her head towards Alfred, deadpanning in a bored tone, "There's a Marvel comic sticking out of your bag. Problem solved?"

"Look who's in a bad mood today," Natalya muttered under her breath.

Ms. Braginski looked nervously at her irked club members, before hastily picking up another piece of paper. "Um...okay...'1. I. 2. Hate. 3. Gilbert Beilschmidt.'...?"

Not a peep from anyone. They were all looking at each other in confusion, trying to figure out who it was.

Gilbert didn't know what to say. But he knew it could only be one person. But did the thought of her not-so-friendly feelings for him really bother him that much? He knew that he deserved it, considering how much of a bastard he had been to her. He had left her behind, refused to talk to her, insulted her behind her back. She was a nerd. She was a goody-two-shoes. She didn't understand him. She was stupid. He didn't know what he was thinking when the two of them became friends.

He knew he regretted it. In his heart, he knew. But that didn't stop him from denying it heatedly; these things were meant to be, and if his twelve year-old self had decided to turn on her, then that was the harsh reality. No turning it around. He couldn't go back in time and change how everything fell apart. They just weren't meant to be. It wasn't really his fault. It was the nature of things.

He wanted to hate her. He really did. So she had every right to hate him as well. Especially since that she'd have to deal with tutoring him until his grades picked up, which, in his eyes, was almost impossible. She had gotten the worst end of the deal.

"It's Elizaveta," he finally managed to choke out, glancing across the room to where she was sitting. Her head was down, chestnut hair hanging in front of her darkened face, refusing to make eye contact. He wondered what was going through her mind at the moment. Hate, like she had written on that sheet of paper? Disgust? Regret?

Nobody said a word. Not even Ms. Braginski.

Once upon a time, she had told him everything. Not a thing about her was a surprise to him. She told him her secrets, and he told her his. They had each other memorized. But now, he couldn't even guess how much she had changed. How much she was mystery to him. How he just couldn't understand the little quirks about her anymore.

She hated him. Elizaveta Héderváry hated him. He told himself that he didn't care, wanting to shrug it off. So what? She wasn't a part of his life anymore, like he wasn't a part of hers. They went out of their way to avoid each other.

But of course, as always, he thought back to that promise all of those years ago.

And how he had broken her heart.


	3. Chapter 3

_A little girl hid behind her mother's legs, peering anxiously around them at a tall man and a boy that was about her age._

_"And this is your daughter Elizaveta? She's a beautiful girl already."_

_"And that's your son Gilbert, isn't it? Say hello to the nice boy, Lizzy."_

_She nodded shyly, before stepping out and giving the boy a timid wave, "Hi."_

_The boy gave her a brilliant smile, the corner of his cheek crinkling into a dimple, scarlet eyes radiant and sparkling in the midday sunshine. It was almost impossible to look away from._

_And that was the moment when her heart had been won._

_XXX_

_From that day on, the two children did everything with each other without fail. Playing in the sandbox. Drawing messy stick figure portraits of each other with brightly-colored crayons. Sharing sandwiches and carrot sticks at lunch. Holding hands as they sat on the tire swing in Liz's backyard. Cutting and pasting pictures for art projects. Toasting marshmallows over candles. Always together._

_Gil didn't care what they thought at first. Liz was his best friend, and some petty rumors wasn't going to take her away from him. She smiled when he couldn't, laughed at his lame jokes even when he messed up the punch line, cheered him up when he was down, and listened to anything he had to tell her. In middle school, when things got tough and Gil's dad lost his job, she walked him home every day and brought him homemade casseroles from her mother. She was his shoulder to cry on, his way of venting his feelings. And she never complained about it. Not once._

_Even after his mother committed suicide when he was in sixth grade and the burden on his fragile shoulders increased ten-fold, she was still there. She squeezed his hand reassuringly when he needed it. They would sit on the floor of his apartment together, and she would just stay quiet as he let out a chain of curses at the world. He would sob and sob and sob, and she would let him put his head on her lap, and she would gently stroke his hair, murmuring that everything would be alright. She was the only thing that kept him together during that difficult time when all he wanted to do was to die._

_When he wanted to collapse and cry and scream and complain, she was there. Always there. A comforting presence. His guardian angel._

_But then Liz caught the flu and was forced to stay in bed for an entire week. When she called him one afternoon to explain what had happened, her voice was so hoarse and scratchy that he told her to save her voice and not to worry about him. Her mother wouldn't let him visit her either._

_So ee walked to school alone, head down. He didn't speak to anyone. He sat in the corner of the lunchroom, eating a sandwich that her mother had dropped off at her house. Gil thought of how they would be trading pretzels, or grapes, or Twinkies. How they would try to make jokes and pretend that nothing was wrong._

_A boy who he vaguely recognized as being popular and a jock approached his seat, before smiling kindly at him. "Hey. Your name is Gil, right?"_

_He nodded slowly, before turning back to his lunch and eating his turkey and cheese sandwich slowly, face entirely blank._

_"What happened to Elizaveta? You two are close friends, right?"_

_Gil desperately wished that the boy would go away and leave him alone. He muttered, "Sick."_

_"Oh, that's too bad." From the airy tone of the boy's voice, Gil could tell that he really didn't feel any sympathy for her. "So, wanna sit with us today? I hate to see you sitting alone like that."_

_He wanted no part of anyone's pity, but he shrugged and picked up his lunchbox, following the boy to his table of loudly-chatting friends. The boys were swatting each other playfully on their shoulders, chewing loudly, and making jokes. Laughing. Smiling._

_"Hey, guys." The boy gestured to Gil. "Remember Gil from our class? Well, since his girlfriend isn't here today, I invited him to sit with us. That okay?"_

_"Oh, so you're that guy?" a guy with a smirking face pointed his fork towards him. "What happened to the chick?"_

_He took the small space between the boys that was not yet vacant. "Sick."_

_"So why the hell are you friends with the dork?"_

_"From what my girlfriend told me, she doesn't even wear a bra."_

_"Seriously?"_

_"And did you hear that her mom was fifteen when she was born? What a slut."_

_"That sure explains a lot."_

_Gil wanted desperately to leave the table and to yell at them for talking about his best friend that way, but he found himself nodding and mumbling in agreement anyways._

What the hell am I doing?

_"Hey, Gil. If you don't want to be friends with her, you could just hang out with us."_

_"Yeah, that would be okay with me. You're a pretty cool guy."_

_"So what do you say, Gil? All you have to do is ignore the bitch and you're in."_

_He thought about her gorgeous smile. The way that she was always there for him. The way that she was the only reason why he still had the will to keep on living. The way that her calm presence comforted him and pulled him through._

_Gil pushed it away. The memories of their time together. Holding hands. Laughing. Telling jokes. Going through their childhood together. Surviving middle school. He also forgot the future that he had planned for the two of them; dating all throughout high school, watching each other's sports games, going to prom together, graduating college, getting married, having children, pursuing their dreams, growing old together. At that moment, he tried to forget it all._

_He gave her up for popularity. He gave her up to become an arrogant jock, a heartbreaker, the one who dated the prettiest girls in the school._

_He tried desperately to drill the thought into his mind. It was over. Boys and girls weren't allowed to hang out in middle school. You hung out with your gender, your exclusive friend circles. It just couldn't be. Elizaveta hadn't grown up fast enough. She wasn't good enough for him._

_Elizaveta was stupid. Elizaveta pitied him. Elizaveta didn't actually want to be his friend. Elizaveta only stuck around him because he was pathetic and clingy. Elizaveta wasn't his friend. Elizaveta wasn't needed. Elizaveta was stupid...the thoughts raced through-out his mind until it became a sort of internal chant._

_So he would be independent. He could do without her. He didn't need her help. He didn't need her pity._

_The day that she came back from her week of being sick, Gil ignored her. When she opened her mouth to say hi in the school hallways, he merely brushed past her to meet the boys that had gathered around his science classroom. She gave him a quizzical look, before looking down at the ground, obviously hurt. He ignored the pang in his heart and gave his new friends and unnecessarily cheerful grin and wave._

_He barely glanced at the table where the two of them used to sit, shoving his way through his sea of classmates to get to where his newfound friends were waiting. As he laughed, joked, and chatted with them, he couldn't help but look at where she sat alone. Her head was down and she was poking at her fresh green salad with the tip of her fork. He shook it off and continued to rant about how her clothes were hand-me-downs, about how she didn't have anyone to hang out with, how she didn't have a boyfriend, how she was the teacher's pet and got good grades. He and his new friends bashed her in every way possible, laughing and laughing at things he didn't want to laugh._

_After a week of this, she grabbed onto his wrist before he could board the bus on a rainy day. "Gil! I need to talk to you!"_

_He let out a huff, before turning around and saying coldly, "What do you want?"_

_"Is that all you can say to me?" She stomped her foot in a muddy puddle, splashing murky water all over her rain coat. "You've been ignoring me? What the hell happened?"_

_"What do you mean by that?" He crossed his arms, glaring at her icily. "I made new friends. What's wrong with that?"_

_"I-I-" she stammered, emerald eye wide and glistening with tears as she held a pink umbrella over her head to block the torrent of raindrops._

_"I just think we shouldn't be friends anymore," he continued, looking at her indifferently as she fought back tears. "You're a girl. I'm a guy. That's not the way it works. And I know you never wanted to be my friend in the first place. You were only feeling sorry for me, right? Well, I don't really need that crap anymore. So this is good-bye, Elizaveta."_

_He turned his back on her and, without feeling any regret, walked to his bus, where the bus driver was impatiently waiting, lit cigarette clamped between his chapped lips._

_"But what about all the time we spent together? I helped you, didn't I? You cried, and I helped you! We did everything together! And now you're just going to throw that all away? Gil...Gil, listen to me!" Elizaveta shouted at him, reaching out for him. "Gil, what happened! GIL!"_

_But he didn't say anything. He barely glanced back at her as he entered his bus. The door to the public vehicle closed, raindrops resembling tears running down the surface of the glass. The bus driver mumbled a greeting to him as he hopped over violin cases and backpacks and pairs of feet to join his group of friends near the back of the bus. The bus let out a rumble, before slowly making its way to the main roads._

_Gil looked out the window as the rain began to come down harder, as a bolt of lightning flashed through the dark afternoon sky. A rumble of thunder shook the earth._

_But she was still standing there, face hidden by a shadow, holding the umbrella above her head._

_He wondered what was going through her mind at that moment, before he firmly thought that he didn't really care._

_They weren't friends anymore anyways._


	4. Chapter 4

After the meeting was over, Liz approached Gil rather awkwardly, gesturing to the door. "Let's just go. We're having the tutoring session at my place, right?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable. This was the girl who had said that she hated him less than a half an hour ago. Gil hadn't been to her house in years. As a matter of fact, he did his best to avoid the route that required walking past it when he was going out for pizza with his friends.

The odd pair left the room in silence, waving a half-hearted good-bye to the ever-cheerful Ms. Braginski, blending in with the small group of crazed delinquents as they all slowly trickled out of the room. The hallways were nearly empty, as most of students still remaining on campus were either practicing with their sports teams or meeting with teachers in nearly-deserted classrooms. The tiled floors were covered with crumpled sheets of paper, broken pencils, and eraser shavings. Every now and then, she would scowl, bend down, and thrown something in a nearby trash can, before getting up again and moving on at a ridiculously fast pace.

He thought longingly of how he could be running around with his friends on the field, autumn breeze sending funnels of leaves swirling around him, feeling the bumpy surface of the ball, and the satisfaction after scoring a touchdown.

"You know, I had to stop playing field hockey to tutor you," she said abruptly, turning around to glare at him. "So quit feeling sorry for yourself. It's your fault that you're in this situation anyways.

His short temper flared at that comment. "Who said that I was feeling sorry for myself? And it's not like I forced you to tutor me. Why the hell did you agree to it if it's obvious you hate me?"

"You think I could have said no to Mr. Vargas?" she shot back. "Maybe if you hadn't flunked all of your classes-"

"Maybe if you hadn't been such a stupid goody-two-shoes-"

"Okay, now you're really pushing it-"

The two were practically shouting at one another when the secretary stuck her head out of the front office, and glared daggers at them, pressing a crimson talon to her lips and shushing them loudly. Liz rolled her eyes, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a piece of bubblegum. She ripped the silver foil off of it with unnecessary force, before shoving it in her mouth and chewing furiously.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Isn't it against school rules to chew gum in the hallways-"

"Who's the goody-two-shoes now?" she demanded, still glaring at him as she marched out of the school and into the midday sunshine. "I don't really give a damn."

He gave her an exasperated look, before sighing and following her reluctantly. The two walked on the sidewalk surrounding their school and past the main field, where her team was practicing. She didn't even glance at the field as she walked at a brisk pace, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"How far away is your house again?" Gil asked quietly after several moments of awkward silence.

"Less than ten minutes," she responded in a clipped, business-like voice. "Which is why I never take the bus. Do you have a problem with walking or something?"

"No."

"Good."

The tension continued to build up as the unlikely duo left campus and turned right, walking on the curb besides middle-aged joggers walking their dogs. Gil felt a wave of nostalgia as they passed by a small, run-down bakery where he and Elizaveta used to spend their free time in elementary school. A crowded arcade. Even though it had been years, his lips curled into a reluctant smile as he recalled the buildings around him, and the memories that came with the old neighborhood.

"Frank!" Elizaveta's eyes lit up as she caught sight of an elderly man sitting on a rusty park bench, his lap covered by a plaid blanket. The man squinted at her through his silver spectacles, before his face crinkled into a smile.

"Lizzie!" he called out in a strained voice, holding out his twig-like arms to give her a quick hug. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine." She tucked a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear, before grasping his frail hands

"I haven't seen you in forever, honey. Have you forgotten about this old geezer?" he let out a quivering laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she giggled. "I'm sorry, I've just been really busy with the student council and sports. Junior year is getting pretty tough."

"Well, knock 'em dead, Lizzie!" The man winked at her, before finally catching sight of a fidgeting Gilbert. "Who is _this_ young man?"

Liz looked over her shoulder, giving him a scowl, before turning back to the man and giving him a strained smile. "Don't you remember him? He's my...friend. Gilbert. He needs some help with schoolwork, so from today on, I'm his tutor. I think you met him when we were ten."

The elderly man adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowing in concentration, before he snapped his fingers and beamed at Gil. "Ah, yes. I remember. Well, the best of luck to you, young man. I don't want to stop you from studying properly, so you youngsters better get moving."

He turned to Liz. "Elisia is dying to see you, sweetheart. Stop by when you're not so busy, okay?"

"It's a deal!" she exclaimed, before backing away and giving him a cheerful wave. "See you around, Frank!"

Liz leaned forward to give him a brisk kiss on the cheek, before grabbing a dazed Gil by the arm and dragging him away, the forced smile still etched on her face. After they were a safe distance away, she stopped and hissed at him, "Would you quit just standing and looking like an idiot all the time?"

"What the hell was I supposed to say?" he demanded angrily. "I don't even remember the old fart."

She rolled her eyes, before storming forward, "Let's go."

He followed her, slouched, hands in his sweater pockets. "I couldn't help but notice that you said that I was a friend."

Liz scowled darkly, before mimicking him in a high-pitched voice, "What the hell was I supposed to say?"

He chose not to comment, following her to the entrance of a brick building crawling with green ivy, watching as she sifted through her purse for a key. After pulling it out from a cramped space between her cellphone and a package of mint lifesavers, she pushed the gold key into the lock. She opened the door with a creak, a wave of what smelled vaguely like freshly-baked brownies filling the musty air. Liz quietly knocked on the door to her apartment, pressing her ear to the door.

Moments later, the door burst open, and a young woman with her chestnut hair in a messy bun stepped out of her apartment, green apron with an embroidered teddy bear tied around her slender torso. She beamed at Gil, before leaning forward to give him a warm embrace, "Gil! It's wonderful to see you again."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders after a moment of hesitation and surprise. "Hi, Katarina."

Liz didn't say anything, merely fidgeting slightly as her mother babbled excitedly about how he was now a solid head taller than she was now, how she was still working in the candy shop, how proud she was of Elizaveta, etc. He merely smiled and nodded awkwardly as she ushered the two into the small apartment, a place he hadn't seen for at least four or five years.

Gil craned his neck to look around the cozy living room. The mantle of the unused fireplace was crowded with small metal trophies, ceramic statues of kittens and birds, and dusty, fingerprint-marked photographs. A picture of Katarina smiling as she posed in a polka-dotted bikini at the beach. Eight year-old Elizaveta closing her eyes as she passionately played her cello onstage. Two children with mud-smeared cheeks, grinning angelically as they built an ant hill.

The furniture was still the same. A prehistoric television sitting on top of a cheap wooden table. Crimson-red couches that looked as fat and comfortable as ever. An organized, color-coded bookshelf crowded with her favorite nineteenth century novels. A vase of fake daisies sat on the windowsill. Two beige-colored lamps. Drawings that dated back to ten years ago hanging proudly in wooden frames. Another wave of nostalgia overcame him as he ran his fingers gently over a handpainted china dog on the mantle.

Katarina smiled as the boy looked fondly around her apartment, resting one hand on her hip and the other on his broad shoulder. "Nothing's changed, huh?"

He murmured an agreement. The woman disappeared into the tiny kitchen, only to reappear moments later carrying a tray of her famous fudge brownies and three glasses of milk. After studying the goodies for another moment, he corrected himself. Two glasses of cow's milk, and one glass of soy milk. He then remembered that she was lactose intolerant. How could he have forgotten something like that?

Elizaveta sighed as she plopped herself down on one of the couches, grabbing a napkin before picking up one of the brownies. She bit into the chocolate treat with gusto, humming in satisfaction as she swallowed the bite with a huge gulp, washing it down with her soy milk. He grabbed one tentatively for himself, slowly biting into the chewy deliciousness and savoring the sweet taste. Warm. Rich. His mind flashed back to the times when he and Elizaveta attempted to create a recipe that rivaled Katarina's when they were six.

He grinned as he recalled their odd mixture of ingredients. Dirt from her yard. Earthworms. Gummi bears. Laundry detergent. Gil had to muffle a laugh at remembering the look of horror on Katarina's face when she came home from her trip to the post office to find the two toddlers and a mess in her usually-neat kitchen.

She frowned at him, gulping down another bite of brownie before answering, "What's so funny?"

The smile was replaced by a scowl in an instant. "Nothing you need to know."

He vaguely heard her pray to the Lord and asking the heavens why she had been cursed to deal with such an insolent bastard or something along the lines of that. After finishing her quick snack and dusting the crumbs off her skirt, she stood up, announcing,"I'm going to change. Just give me a sec."

He watched her as she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door with a loud bang. Katarina poked her head out of the kitchen, before tiptoeing out and sitting herself down next to him on the couch. She pulled the butterfly clip out of her hair and combed out the tangled strands with her fingers, fixing Gil with a steely gaze. "You really hurt her all those years ago."

He gulped down some of his milk, avoiding eye contact and muttering under his breath, "Yeah. I know."

"She came to me crying that night," she said in the same gentle voice. "She told me what you had done. What you said to her. She has every right to hate you. You know that, right?"

He desperately wanted her to stop talking, but chose to nodd stiffly, staring down at the half-eaten brownie in his lap.

"But I want that to change." She gave him an encouraging smile and leaned over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Which is why I had Lizzie tutor you. I know from personal experience that she can sure hold a grudge." A bitter laugh. "You really broke her heart, Gil. She loved you. But I think you two can be friends again."

_She loved me._

"Gil, you and Lizzie were inseparable from the day you met. I don't even know how it felt apart. She hasn't been the same since you stopped being friends. You two were best friends once. Can't you at least try to get her to like you again? You're a charming boy, Gil." She gave him a wink, before laughing and resting her pale hand on top of his, smiling at him fondly. "You can't expect her to be nice to you right away. It's been five years, after all. So be patient. Try to be nice to her. I'm doing this for both of you, okay? So let's do our best."

She stood up, ruffling his hair, humming a cheery tune to herself and ambling back into the kitchen.

Gil knew that she was delusional. Idealistic. Did she really think that Elizaveta would accept him as a friend? He wasn't really sure that he wanted her as a friend anymore either. She had changed. He had changed. Katarina wouldn't be able to force them to magically become pals again if their personalities just couldn't click anymore. Right?

He thought of how genuine Katarina seemed when she claimed that it was for the both of them. Gil knew that he and Elizaveta probably wouldn't be able to be real friends anymore- but perhaps he could try to be more polite to her and make sure that they weren't clashing 24/7. What was now a bitter rivalry could possibly turn into a halfway-decent tutor-student relationship.

Liz stepped out of her room, wearing red and green checkered pants that appeared to be two sizes too big for her and a loose white v-necked t-shirt. She yawned loudly, stretching her arms, before strolling to her couch and collapsing onto it, pressing her cheek to the back of her hand.

Gil smirked at her, holding up his still halfway-full glass of milk. "You_ do_ realize that if I dump this on you, I'd be able to see your boobs?"

She gave him an icy glare, crossing her arms over her not-so-prominent chest. "Pervert."

"Well, not that there would be much to see anyways-"

Liz grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table, rolled it up and a lightning-quick motion, and smacked it roughly onto his head. "_Faszkalap*_."

"Truce, truce," he laughed, bracing his hands in surrender. "So, do we get to the tutoring now or what?"

The girl glared at him suspiciously for another moment, before sighing and slouching further down the worn couch, clutching a flower-embroidered pillow to her chest. "Fine. What do you need help with the most?"

He thought about it before answering thoughtfully, "History, probably. I'm getting the worst grades in it."

"Well, that's not surprising," she grumbled, tracing the pink flower designs with her index finger.

Gil stuck his tongue out at her, grabbing another pillow and whacking her on the head. "Shut up. So how the hell are you going to help me?"

She gave him an incredulous look, before rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's not that difficult, idiot. Your problem is that you're too much of a douchenugget to actually put effort into anything other than your stupid sport where sweaty fat guys run around in helmets and try to tackle other sweaty fat guys-

"What the hell are you talking about? Field hockey isn't so fucking great either-"

Liz clamped a hand to his mouth. "Seriously, stop with the language or I'll wash your mouth out with my mom's homemade soap. Not pleasant. You're under my roof, play by my rules. Okay, dickwad? Anyways, where was I again? Right. Okay. The only way to actually get acceptable grades in history is to do a shitload of studying. What was DeWitt Clinton's gredatest accomplishment? Google it. Of course, you have to make sure that the site is valid-"

"This isn't really helping," he protested indignantly. "Can't you say something useful? The old man actually said that you'd be a good tutor."

"-anyways, you should just make study flash cards or something. Or meet with your teachers if you don't get it. I'll let you take a look at my notes and I'll go over some concepts with you, and I guess I'll give you study tips, but really, there isn't much I can do for history. Do you need help with your homework or something?" she spoke in a louder voice, twirling a strand of her thick hair between her fingers, obviously bored.

He felt really pissed-off at that moment, forgetting his previous promise to himself to be nicer to her. "If you don't want to help me, than you should just quit. It's not like I'm dying to be here with you either. So stop acting like a bitch and actually goddamn help me."

Awkward silence.

Suddenly, she stood up, forest-green eyes burning with anger and hatred. "You know what? I think we both need some time to cool off, okay? We're just pissing each other off. I'm sorry for being such an asshole. I...I have to get ready for a date now, so you should probably leave. I'm sorry that I couldn't help you today. Tomorrow, alright?"

He scrambled to his feet, reaching a hand out towards her, but before he could stop her, she dashed towards her room. Within moments, the door was closed and loud banging noises were audible. Gilbert sighed heavily, walking to her room and pressing his ear to the door. He twisted the silver doorknob. Locked.

"Hey, Elizaveta...I'm sorry I blew up at you."

No response. Then he remembered that she said that she had a date to get ready for. Or so she claimed. "Hey, Elizaveta. Was the date thing just an excuse or were you for real? If it was just an excuse, it's okay, I'll leave if you want me to-"

"No. I actually have a date," she said shortly, her voice trembling slightly. He jangled the doorknob one more time. Still locked. "And please don't call me Elizaveta. Liz, Eliza, Lizzie- I really don't give a damn. I just...I hate that name."

Her response had taken him aback. Since when?

"So, um...who's your boyfriend?" he asked, narrowing his scarlet eyes, genuinely curious.

"Roderich Edelstein. You two are friends, right?"

XXX

Author's Note:

So...yeah. Feel free to tell me your thoughts on this story. Whether you love it, like it, think I'm a mushroom-deprived person, or loathe this story with a burning passion- I don't mind. Just as long as you aren't too rude and refrain from using too many F-bombs and such, unlike our dear little Gizzard. (And yes, that's his new nickname.) Constructive criticism is always considered with the utmost respect.

Thank you for clicking on this page, and I hope you're enjoying this so far. :P

*Dickhat in Hungarian. I got this from because, unfortunately, I am not blessed with the ability to speak such a lovely language. If by some coincidence you are, and this translation is wrong (because it probably is) then, by all means, please correct me. XD


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

OKAY GUISE SUPER HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL ANNOUNCEMENT

My sister is graduating from law school this weekend, so this means that I'll have watch a boring ceremony and simultaneously study for some super-important exams next week. And after that, I have a crapload of projects to do, and finals are coming up, so...I really don't have time to do much writing. As much as it pains me to say this- school comes before pretty much everything. This chapter will be my last upload until early June.

Thanks so much for supporting this story, brohahs, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Tuturu~

XXX

His friend? Was she blind or something? He gave the closed door an incredulous look.

He and Roderich-bastard were rivals. Sure, they were teammates on the football team, and could pull their act together when a particularly tough game called for it, but it wasn't like the two of them were buddy-buddy or anything dumb like that. As a matter of fact, Roderich was so much of a goody-two-shoes that it pissed him off. Straight-A student. Talented athlete. Prodigious pianist. Winner of every goddamn award possible. Treasurer of the student council.

Gil had never figured out that the two of them were dating. Feliciano Vargas, and Vash and Lili Zwingli were Liz's closest friends at school, and Roderich seemed to be pretty friendly with them as well. So he just brushed it off anytime he saw Liz and Roderich at a coffee shop or sitting together at lunch or helping each other study. Besides, he wasn't really one for gossip anyways.

So it sort of came as a surprise to Gil. Something flared in his gut, but he did his best to ignore it and curse at himself for being a complete idiot. It was stupid to feel mad that she was leaving him, when he was the one who had abandoned her in the first place.

"Um...okay," he heard himself saying as he shuffled backwards awkwardly. "Sorry. I'll just leave now. Have fun at your date."

Katarina poked her head out of the kitchen, eyes wide with concern,, but he just gave her a quick smile and muttered a hasty good-bye, reassuring her that he would be back tomorrow. He grabbed his backpack, before yanking open the door and leaving the apartment.

As soon as he had stepped out into the midday sunshine, he felt sort of...hollow. It was difficult to describe what he was feeling.

He didn't feel like going home and telling Ludwig that he was now officially labeled a delinquent, had joined a club chock full of them, and was currently being tutored by his secretary.

Gil let out a huff of frustration, leaning his back against the cool brick of the apartment building.

It was warm for a fall day. The sky was a pure blue and there wasn't a cloud in sight. A light breeze tickled his face, and created a small golden cyclone of leaves on the cracked pavement.

After deciding against going back to the school just to throw a couple of footballs around, he finally decided to take a walk around the familiar neighborhood.

His eyes drunk in the sight of the other apartment complexes, ancient houses with robin's egg blue shutters and porches that were falling apart, and the occasional antiques store, bakery, or small doctor's office.

Gil stuck his hands in his jean pockets, meandering lazily around the place, burgundy eyes scanning his surroundings. He reached into his backpack for his clunky, prehistoric phone, flipping the top open. 3:06.

Two more hours to kill. When he was still on the football team, practice would end at around five and after showering in the gym locker room, he would head home and eat some of whatever Ludwig had bothered to make for him. He would have to go home around that time to make sure Ludwig wasn't suspicious.

Gil really didn't want to tell Ludwig, dreading the reaction his brother would have. He pictured the look of quiet disappointment on his face, heard the clack of his tongue in his mind, watched him disappear somewhere.

His brother was so...distant. Always locking himself up on his room, doing homework or rewriting the school's honor code. Something like that. Completely ignoring Gil in school, pretending that he didn't have such a failure for an older brother.

But Gil couldn't blame him. He just couldn't. He knew that he was a disappointment. He knew that he would never amount to anything in life. He knew that he was a waste of space and time and effort. He knew that he was an embarrassment to his brilliant older brother and simply dragging him down. He knew that he was arrogant, hot-headed, and stupid.

He rounded the corner, looking down at the cracked pavement, but instead of finding a couple more office buildings, there was...an empty lot.

It was filled with dried-up dandelions, tall grasses, the soil clumped together and a dry beige-ish color. Empty containers of Skippy's peanut butter, crumpled-up balls of paper, and candy wrappers littered the ground.

A sign was tilted onto its side, rusted and its paint peeling. He crouched down to read it, brow furrowed in concentration. Something about how it was for sale and to call a certain number if the person happened to be interested in purchasing it.

Sun glaring down at him and creating beads of sweat on the nape of his neck, he brushed a hand against the dandelion, watching as the petals crumbled between his fingertips.

He didn't understand how, but there was...a certain magic about it.

Something about how serene and peaceful it was. Something graceful about its blatant abandonment. He sat crouched there for what seemed like an eon, before finally making another decision.

He wanted it. The empty lot that was abandoned like him. Thrown to the side. Unwanted. He wanted something in his stupid life to work out. He would do something to stop the lot from continuing its sad existence. He would do something to make sure that he wasn't entirely useless.

Without being fully conscious of what he was doing, Gil took out his phone once more and dialed the number painted onto the sign. The phone rang twice, before someone picked up the phone, saying in a tinny voice, "Yes? Adrian Faust speaking. Who is this?"

Gi cleared his throat. "Hello, sir. Um...my name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, and uh...I'm a junior at Ashwick High. I want to buy the lot you have in Thornwood-"

"So you're a high school student?" the man interrupted him harshly, a hint of suspicious evident in his voice.. "What are you planning to do with it? I'd like to know."

The question caught him off guard. He actually...didn't really know what he wanted to use it for. His mind hastily fished around for possibilities, until the image of the dried dandelion popped into his head. He coughed, before saying in what he hoped was a confident voice, "I'm gonna plant a garden. An awesome one."

Yes. That was perfect. It wasn't something that he would publicly admit, but...he really loved gardening for some reason. He knew it was embarrassing and unmanly or something stupid like that and he couldn't let anyone at school know about it lest he ruin his reputation as the residential tough guy.

But he had never been able to find a good place to actually plant a decent garden other than his windowsill, where he kept a few potted plants. He and Ludwig rented a couple of rooms in some crabby old woman's house, and the hag never so much as let him touch her goddamn yard.

Lizzie had loved flowers. She would sit in meadow all day and would just smile at the colorful buds and bright green grass, chestnut hair shining under the sun. Making daisy necklaces. Gently picking up a wildflower and tucking it behind her ear. Blowing milky dandelion seeds into the air, watching as they floated freely into the dazzling blue sky and out of sight.

"I'm gonna plant a garden someday." His heart contracted as he thought about that smile.

The man hesitated for a moment, but Gil could hear the smile in his voice. "Alright. I'll give it to you."

"Thanks," Gil nodded. "How much do you want-?"

"No, nothing like that. It's yours. Thank you for taking it off my hands. I hope that you make good use of it."

"Wait-" Before he could continue, however, the man had already hung up. Gil slowly brought the phone away from his face, gaping at the screen for a couple of seconds before slipping it back into his pocket.

It was his. He pulled the sign from the ground, tossing it to the side, beaming in satisfaction as he put his hands on his hips. "Looks like we have some work to do, buddy."

XXX

"For our first Oyster Club project," Ms. Braginski clasping her hands together, beaming at the bored delinquents plus Elizaveta, "we're going to sell cookies in the Ashwick Mall this afternoon!"

Everyone stared blankly at her, before Elizaveta raised her hand lazily, twirling a strand of her thick chestnut hair in her fingers. "So how is this going to work?"

She reached into her black mesh bag and pulled out a clipboard, tucking a pencil behind her ear. "Well, I made three pairs and one three-man cell, so I'm going to station you guys around the mall with cookie stands and ask you to sell cookies to shoppers. One pair's going to have to walk around holding signs that advertise our booths."

Gil let out an internal groan. Partners? This didn't really sound promising.

"Okay, so...Sadiq and Heracles will be the advertisers!"

Dead silence. Arthur scowled darkly, kicking his sneaker-clad feet onto his desk. "Is she trying to blow the bloody place up?"

He merely grunted in agreement, watching in morbid curiosity as the two freshmen didn't even try to disguise the fact that they were glaring daggers at each other.

Gil sighed ruefully, focusing his attention back onto Ms. Braginski, who continued to cheerfully read off the pairs, seemingly oblivious to the ill-disguised tension in the room. "Natalya and Feliks." The pyro rolled her eyes and scowled at her sister. "Alfred, Arthur, and Lovino. And...Elizaveta and Gilbert!"

Gil almost choked as his eyes immediately shifted to Liz. She seemed to be suspended in time, mouth still on the water bottle she had been chugging before Ms. Braginski had dropped the bombshell.

Liz squeaked, before she removed the bottle from her mouth, wiping her face with her shirt sleeve and letting out a hacking cough. She shot a glare at him, and he merely shrugged, mouthing angrily, "How the hell is this my fault?"

"And that's all I have to say!" Ms. Braginski scribbled something on her clipboard, before tucking it back into her bag. "All set to go everyone?" Everyone was too busy glaring at each other to respond. "Great! Okay, to the bus!"

Liz scowled, swinging her bag over her shoulders and storming out of the room.

Gil took a few cautious steps forward, before tapping the young teacher's shoulder. "Excuse me, Ms. Braginski? Um...well, I don't really know if pairing me with that-" he caught himself, giving her a smile and hastily amending his words, "-Elizaveta, 'cause we don't really get along all that well and stuff like that. So can you, like, pair me with someone else?"

Ms. Braginski frowned at him, genuinely concerned. "That's the exact reason why I paired you two together. I saw what happened yesterday." She nodded sagely. "You and Elizaveta should at least try and be friends. I don't want to see that sort of hostility within the club. You two is need some bonding time to settle your differences. It's the same reason why I paired Sadiq and Heracles together." A kind smile and what was supposed to be a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "So try and be nice to her, okay?"

The young woman winked at him, before gesturing towards the door. "Let's go have some fun!"

And so, the two helplessly ended up having to set up a booth together in front of some stupid perfume shop; unfolding a portable table, removing cheap boxes of cookies from the cardboard boxes Ms. Braginski had provided them with, and hastily scribbling signs on spare pieces of loose-leaf.

Gil watched in slight amusement as Sadiq and Heracles walked around, colorful signs hanging from strings around their necks, advertising cookies booth in several different locations around the mall. It was clear that they were trying not to strangle each other, exchanging a murderous look every once in a while before continuing to advertise monotonously.

An elbow jabbed his rib. He grunted in surprise, before turning to his right and scowling at the perpetrator. "What the hell was that for?"

She rolled her eyes, gesturing to the crowds of people passing by that were barely glancing at the pair and their sad display of what could barely be called cookies. "Stop acting like you're a zombie. Say something to the people to make this shit seem somewhat appealing."

"We don't even know what this is for anyways," he whined, before jutting his thumb towards Sadiq and Heracles. "And besides, that's their job."

"Well, I'm sure that it's just for some sort of event that the club is planning," she shot back, before plastering a movie-star smile onto her face and gesturing towards the stand. "Cookies! Cookies! Two dollars per box! Support Ashwick High's Oyster Club! Cookies!"

A couple of people glanced at them, and a generous middle-aged woman tailed by two very small children tossed two bills onto the table. "Can I have a box of oatmeal raisin?"

Elizaveta handed the cookies over, smoothing out the crumpled bills and putting them into a small envelope. "Thank you for your business, ma'am!"

The woman nodded, handing the box of cookies to her children, before hurrying away.

Every once in awhile, the two managed to sell another box or two of cookies, thanking the customer politely. However, no bonding of any sort took place as they fidgeted uncomfortably, rearranged the pyramid of cookie boxes, and recounted the money in the envelope.

He rather would have been locked in a dark closet with a creep like Natalya rather than sit in awkward silence for about a half an hour with the girl that hated him.

Finally, he remembered something, tentatively speaking up, "So...how was your date?"

She gave him a dubious look before averting her eyes, muttering, "Fine."

"How's old Roddy?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Fine." She gritted her teeth, foot tapping impatiently against the tiled floor as she glared murderously at the ground.

"So what did you two do? Screw in the back of his Prius? Hold his goddamn hand during a movie? Chat about politics and the economy in a fancy little restaurant?" Gil was very aware that he was being a total asshole, but driving her insane was the most entertainment he could get out of having his pants bored off selling goddamn cookies for no apparent reason.

Her face turned red as she clenched her fists, closing her eyes. "It's none of your business, idiot."

"Oh? But I'm simply dying to know." Gil smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "He and I are very good friends, after all."

Liz looked like she was about to say something, but she just let out a huff of frustration, avoiding his gaze as she glared menacingly at a poster of some scarily-thin model posing with a designer bag.

"What the hell did that poster ever do to-?" Gil stopped in the middle of his taunt, eyes widening.

Ludwig was among the sea of people, carrying a plastic bag, blonde hair disheveled. Gil gasped, ducking down to hide under the table, heart pounding, nearly banging his head on the bottom of the table.

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit...

She frowned at him, before following his gaze and noticing him, eyes lighting up as she waved energetically. "Hey, Ludwig! Over here!"

The student council president turned around, looking around for the source of the noise, before spotting his beaming secretary. He smiled wearily, waving back pushing past the crowd to get to the stand.

Liz glared at Gil, ducking her head under the table and hissing sharply, "What the hell are you doing?"

Without warning, she grabbed his arm, yanking him upwards, causing him to almost lose his balance and go crashing into a display of expensive perfumes. He managed to steady himself, but before he could hide himself again, Ludwig was already standing in front of the table. His eyes widened after he noticed his brother, before narrowing in suspicion.

Gil gave him a nervous grin, crossing his fingers behind his back.

"So what brings you here, President?"

Ludwig lifted up his bag. "I work part-time at a Starbucks. I just finished my shift, so I was heading home." He nodded politely to her, before his stern gaze immediately shifted to his older brother.. "Why are you here?"

Before Gil could find the words to answer him, however, Liz decided to chime in, "Oyster Club stuff." He raised an eyebrow, eyes never leaving Gil's. "You know...the new club run by Ms. Braginski that you wanted me to supervise? The one where 'academically and morally-challenged students gather to learn how to become proper members of society'? Well, we're selling cookies, and-"

"Yes, yes, I know that," the boy interrupted impatiently, surprising her. "But what is he doing here?"

Gil winced, looking at Elizaveta and hoping that she got his drift and had the sense to shut her damn mouth, but she didn't seem to notice him. "Oh, Gilbert? For the same reason as the rest of us."

"Us? You joined the Oyster Club?" Ludwig gave Gil the stern, disappointed look that he wished he was used to be now. Gil felt a twinge of guilt as his younger brother sighed, shaking his head.

"Um...yeah. I talked to Mr. Vargas yesterday, and um...he said that I could join the club to get some extra credit. And Liz agreed to tutor me, so...yeah. It all works out." Gil fidgeted awkwardly, waiting for his brother to go all rage-mode despite the fact that they were in a public area and that shouting in front of crowds of innocent people was probably against his morals.

Ludwig looked like he was about to say something, but he merely sighed, running his fingers through his blonde hair. "The two of us can talk about this later. See you tomorrow, Elizaveta. There's a meeting during lunch tomorrow, so don't forget to stop by."

"Roger that, President!" Liz saluted him.

He gave her a half-hearted smile before slipping back into the crowd and heading for the exit of the mall.

After his brother was out of ear-shot, Gil turned to her. "What the hell was that for? Are you stupid or something? He's gonna kill me now!"

Liz gave him a dubious look, crossing her arms. "What else was I supposed to say? That you, being the kind and generous person you are, decided to ditch practice to help out the goddamn Oyster Club? Please. Like he'd believe that crap. And besides, you'd have had to tell him eventually."

He groaned, grudgingly admitting that she was right. "Ugh, this really sucks..."

"Well, what the hell do you expect me to do about it?" She rolled her eyes as she popped yet another piece of mint gum into her mouth. Loud smacking sounds filled the air.

"Hey..." Gil turned around, already thinking of a good comeback to whatever she was about to say.

She hesitated, before saying slowly, "Um...it's not like I want you to get expelled. Vargas would strangle me if you didn't get better under my watch. Ludwig would too, so...um...let's do our best together,.okay?"

He gave her a dubious look. Her smile was strained and uncertain as she held out her fist. But the gesture seemed genuine enough, he figured as he brushed his knuckles against hers, still studying her face.

A little girl sitting in a field of flowers. A little girl that dried his tears and told him that everything would turn out okay.


	6. Chapter 6

After a not-so-productive tutoring session was over, Gilbert declined Katarina's offer of driving him home and decided to walk home by himself. It wasn't that far anyways, and would only take him about ten minutes.

The sun was setting, sending rosy orange hues across the sky and painting the puffy clouds a vibrant pink. The air was cool, small breezes brushing against his cheeks and ruffling his snow-white hair.

Not many people in Thornwood were out at this hour, mostly staying inside or preparing dinner. A whistling man sweeping his dusty porch waved at him and asked how he was. Gil smiled confidently in return and said that he was fine, before continuing his walk, hands in his hoodie pockets.

He ducked under a maple tree that was gradually losing its already crimson leaves, feeling the branch skim his hair lightly before springing back into place.

The lights were off on the old hag's side of the house, but the window of Ludwig's bedroom was illuminated by the lamp on his desk that was visible from where Gil was standing.

He crossed the yard, listening to the crunch of the brown leaves underneath his beat-up Converse sneakers, slowly taking the key out of his bag with a soft jangle. He stuck the rusty metal into the lock, before turning it, and after hearing the click, pushing open the door.

He, as quietly as possible, kicked his shoes off, before crossing the small area that acted as their living room and entering the kitchen. It was pretty much immersed in darkness, but Gil, not wanting to disturb his brother, refrained from flipping the switch and turning the lights on.

After feeling his way through the dark room and finally finding the knob of the faucet, he splashed his face with the slightly-metallic cold water. Gil found their mini-fridge, grasping at the latch before pulling the grimy thing open. He grabbed a cold-cut sandwich covered with plastic wrap and a Coke, immediately pushing the tab down and downing the fizzy liquid.

"Gilbert?"

Gil almost choked, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie before managing to swallow the mouthful of soda. He let out what he hoped was a convincing laugh, before saying nonchalantly, "Hey, Lud. How's it goin'?"

"Fine," his brother replied in a clipped voice, leaning back to flick the lights on. His cerulean eyes were narrowed in a mixture of anger and frustration, his blonde hair wet and a towel around his neck.

"How's the student council-"

"Good. But we need to talk about something else-"

"If it's about the Oyster Club thing-"

"I knew that you were immature, but I never thought that something like this would happen."

Ouch. Gil tried not to wince. "I'm just not as good as you, okay? I'm not smart-"

"It's not about whether you're smart or not. It's about the choices you're making. I took a look at your record and it looks like you've been getting into fights at least twice a week. You're making no effort in your classes. You're disrespectful. Can't you at least make an effort to do something?" Ludwig demanded angrily.

"Why, so you don't look bad in front of every damn person you kiss up to?" he challenged without hesitating to think about what was going to come out of his mouth.

Awkward pause. Ludwig struggled to find a response to this, before he recomposed himself. "There's no rational reason why you've been acting this way. And no, mom isn't a valid excuse. Just get over it, Gilbert. Get your act together."

Gil felt like punching a wall at that moment, watching his brother walk out of the room, unable to find some way to give him a verbal slap in the face.

But the last thing he wanted to do was accept that every word that came out of Ludwig's mouth was true.

XXX

"Next order of business!" Ms. Braginski announced, whipping out her clipboard and pencil much to the chagrin of her unwilling club members. "Buying supplies for our picnic!"

"Our picnic?" Natalya asked incredulously, looking at her sister in disbelief.

"What else were we going to with all of the money we earned at the cookie sales?" the teacher beamed, rifling through her papers before letting out a triumphant "aha!". "Yesterday, we made a total of fifty dollars and twenty-five cents!"

"And that's enough for a picnic?" Arthur inquired skeptically.

"Well, I talked to Mr. Vargas about it, and he says that he'd been willing to give us some money in order to fund the picnic, since it's a project designed to help bring the community together and enforce our new friendships!"

From the blank looks that most of the club members were giving her, Gil knew that nothing of that sort was going to happen. As a matter of fact, he could sense that everyone was silently challenging each other at that very moment.

"Hell yeah, this sounds awesome!" Alfred fist-pumped, vigorously chewing a bite of his turkey sandwich. "Let's get this party started!"

"That's the spirit, Alfred!" Mr. Braginski cheered. "Okay, so I made a list of what we're going to buy at the supermarket today-"

Gil tuned out as she read out the items on her list, resting his cheek against his palm, unable to stop thinking about his conversation with Ludwig the night before.

"-so I decided that I really liked the partner idea, and since the groups I put you guys in yesterday really cooperated and got along with each other, I was thinking that I should make these your permanent partners!"

"What?!" the entire club chorused, before glaring at their respective partners.

"Natalya and Feliks will be in charge of buying the hamburgers, hot dogs, and their buns. Sadiq and Heracles- napkins, tablecloths, wipes, and tinfoil. Alfred, Arthur, and Lovino- ketchup, mustard, relish, ginger ale, and apple juice. Elizaveta and Gilbert- paper plates, cups, and plastic utensils." Once Ms. Braginski was finished reading down the list, she looked up and smiled angelically. "After you've checked out the items I've assigned you, meet at the front of the supermarket. I'd like to ask you to not fool around, since we need all the time we can get to plan the picnic! Is everyone ready?"

"Woohoo," Gil muttered sarcastically under his breath, reluctantly standing up and swinging his bag over his shoulder as he followed his clubmates out of the classroom.

XXX

As soon as Gil grabbed a grimy shopping cart with almost completely-shredded, week-old advertisements littered on the bottom, Liz climbed into it, easing herself inside and hugging her knees to her chest.

When he gave her a dubious look and refused to push the cart, she scowled at him. "Well? Aren't you gonna move? You're kind of holding everyone up."

He glared at her. "Do you seriously expect me to push your fat ass around a supermarket?"

"Yes." She arched an eyebrow at him, resulting in an intense staring contest that lasted for approximately thirty seconds.

Gil sighed and finally gave in, pushing the cart with a tremendous amount of force. He peered around the aisles, muttering under his breath, "Canned food, baking items, processed food, soda...aha! Paper goods."

He grunted as he jerked the cart sharply to the left, leaning forward and pressing all of his weight onto it. "Hey, Liz...a little help here."

She was tapping on her phone, green eyes glued to the screen, seemingly oblivious to what he was trying to say to her. Something about this ticked him off, and he was soon struck with a wild idea that he knew would make her regret bitching off.

Grinning to himself, he stopped in the middle of the aisle. After a couple of seconds, she noticed the sudden change and was in the middle of giving him an impatient look and about to open her mouth to say something, but she was too late.

Gil broke into a run, the wheels of the shopping cart screeching noisily against the grimy tiles.

"GILBERT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Liz screamed, her eyes squeezed shut and hands covering her ears.

He let go of the cart, laughing evilly as it spiraled out of control and crashed into a stack of baby powder with a loud clatter. Several containers split open, filling the air with the sweet scent of the powder and Liz's hacking coughs.

She crawled out of the tipped-over cart, hair dusted with white by the powder. She stood up and dusted off her blouse, before storming angrily to him and grabbing him by his collar, scowling murderously. "You little-"

"What do you kids think you're doing?" an thin, bony man with a bushy moustache demanded angrily. "Isn't there a better place for you two to have fun?"

Liz gave Gil a "now-you've-done-it" look, before plastering on a movie star smile. "Sir-"

"Don't 'sir' me," the man interrupted gruffly, still ruffled, pointing at the door. "Out."

"B-but, sir, um, you see, we have something really important to do-"

He shook his head, bending down to asses the damage, picking up a dented can of baby powder. "Out."

Gil was about to give the bastard a good smack in the face, but Liz grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the door with a surprisingly strong grip before he could even move a muscle.

He then noticed something. "Hey, isn't the door the other way-"

She turned around and gave him an annoyed look. "Ms. Braginski is standing at the front entrance. Do you want to get detention 'cause you, being the insufferable asshole you are, went all immature and bastard-y and crashed me into a fucking baby powder display? So we're going to leave through the back door."

"It's your fault for being such an un-awesome bitch," he retorted, scowling at her as they stepped over dirty cardboard boxes and pushed open a heavy door that was painted with the words "emergency only". "If you hadn't been texting your darling Roddy-"

"Who said that I was texting _him_? I was just telling Lili where I was. Stop jumping to conclusions, dickwad." She glared icily at him, finally letting go of his hand.

Behind the supermarket was a small thicket of almost-bare oak trees and overgrown bushes. Liz ducked under a branch, before gingerly shoving her way through the maze of thorns, Gil struggling to follow her example.

After getting pricked numerous times, they finally managed to crawl out of the thicket and onto an almost-deserted street that seemed to consist of only restaurants that looked like they were falling apart and Mexican hair salons.

"So, what's the plan?" Gil asked nonchalantly after several minutes of awkward silence.

"Well, we're going to have to come up with the stuff we need somehow, right? I think there's a dollar store somewhere around here, so if we can find it and get the shit to Ms. Braginski before she starts wondering where the hell we are and calls the police, it'll all work out," she said confidently, briskly turning the corner and leading them down a similar street.

"You think there's a dollar store somewhere?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "That doesn't sound promising. I expected something cooler from the almighty Elizaveta."

"Oh, just shut up!" she whirled around, before, in her frustration and anger, yelling, "It's your fault that we got into this stupid mess! And besides, do you have a better idea of what the hell we're supposed to do?" He wisely chose to stay silent and she waited impatiently for a response, before turning back around, somewhat satisfied."Thought so. So keep that annoying trap of yours shut so I can concentrate."

Gil rolled his eyes and reached into his backpack for a mint, ripping off the shiny, crumpled wrapper and tossing it onto the pavement. He watched as a small gust of wind sent it scuttling across the concrete of the street and out of sight, popping into his mouth.

He sort of zoned out as they made numerous twist and turns. The sky got darker as the time passed by, the streets getting more run-down, decrepit, and empty. He snapped to attention after she stopped in front of him, brow furrowed in concentration and deep thought as she contemplated what turn to take next. "I could have sworn that there was a-"

After glancing at his watch and widening his eyes at the time, he leaned forward to tap her shoulder, flinching as she jumped at the sudden contact. "Just admit it. You don't have any fucking idea what you're doing."

"I so do-" she shouted indignantly, before she sighed, sulking and refusing to make eye contact. "Alright, fine. That's true. We're lost."

She let out a huff of frustration, before sliding down the nearest brick wall, burying her face in her hands. "Ugh, goddammit. She's going to murder us."

Gil was only then aware of how he had no clue how to comfort a girl, but made a valiant attempt, awkwardly crouching down beside her. "Um, so...I guess we should give up the shopping thing. Do you think we could try calling Ms. Braginski?"

She whipped out her phone, pressing buttons at a rapid-fire place, before her face fell and she exhaled in disappointment, arms falling to her sides. "No service. And besides, I don't even have her number. I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

He groaned, before suggesting tentatively, "Um, I guess we could try to find our way back?" After failing to get a reaction out of her and realizing how doubtful and uncertain he sounded, he forced a cheery smile and thumbs-up, reaching his hand out to her."Yeah, that's exactly what we should do! Come on, Liz! You can totally do it!"

Liz gave him a dubious look, but eventually took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She cleared her throat, before surveying the area, "Well, I think-"

Suddenly, a truck hurtled to a stop besides them, headlights so blindingly bright that they were both forced to shield their eyes. The vehicle groaned, puffing out a hazy cloud of exhaust as the door flew open. A Chinese man poked his head out of his window, squinting at them before grinning and asking in a thick accent, "Do you kids need a ride?"

In ordinary situations, both of them, being the completely sane and normal seventeen year-olds they were, would have turned the offer down. But desperate times called for desperate measures. After exchanging a quick look, the two nodded at the same time and almost tripped over each other while climbing into the truck.

The vehicle's interior smelled like strong incense and day-old take-out, and there was a strange butterscotch-colored stain on the back-seat. The back of the truck was filled with messily-stacked boxes and stuffed animals.

Liz wrinkled her nose, gingerly picking up a somewhat-clean robin-eggs blue beach towel from the floor and smoothing it over the crumb-covered seat, before finally sitting down.

"Where do you need to go?" the man asked. His long, dark hair was tied back into a ponytail, and he was clad in dark green overalls and a grimy white t-shirt.

"Ashwick Supermarket," Liz told the man, who nodded in response and started the car with a loud rumble, the vehicle lurching forward before moving slowly down the road. "My friend and I were doing something important for this club we're a part of, and we got kicked out of the supermarket for fooling around," Cue the meaningful glance at Gil, "so we were trying to find a place where we could still get the stuff we needed. And I guess we sort of got lost, so...thanks for doing this. We really appreciate it." She elbowed him roughly in the ribs.

He winced, before recomposing himself. "Um. yeah! Thanks! You seem like a really awesome guy!"

The man smiled. "It's no big deal. My name is Yao. What are you called?"

Before she could answer, Gil chimed in, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Yao! My friend here is called Hortensia Winckles, and I'm Ryder Lordfuker. She hails from the kingdom of Douchelandia, and I have traveled across the desert from Awesomeland!"

Liz shot a glare at him and was about to say something, but Yao merely grinned at them. "I come from China."

The truck clanked noisily down the road, but he seemed to know what he was doing, turning left and driving slowly through a street that seemed sort of familiar. At that point, the two chose to relax, figuring that if the man was in any way suspicious he would have or dragged them to his pedo lair or something.

"Do you like Hello Kitty?" the man asked them suddenly, breaking the silence.

Gil raised an eyebrow at Liz, but she just nodded. "Yeah, we do."

He reached for something in the passenger seat, causing the two to tense up, holding their breaths and locking gazes. A large plushie of said Japanese bobtail cat landed in her arms, waving adorably at them.

"For you," Yao announced proudly, turning a bit in his seat to flash them a thumbs-up.

"Um, thanks?" Liz gave the stuffed animal a quizzical look, before shrugging and straightening out its magenta bow.

"I was reading my tea leaves this morning, and I saw that I would run into a pair of lost teenagers that liked Hello Kitty. And it seems as if my prediction was correct!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pumping a fist into the air.

Only silence. Gil cleared his throat, before saying lamely, "Oh, that's pretty cool."

"Yeah...what a coincidence," Liz offered up weakly, looking just about as confused and lost as he felt. She was fidgeting uneasily in her seat, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her green eyes wide and anxious.

"But I have seen much more than that," the man continued, nodding sagely. "I have predicted that those who do not take off their pants and put it on their heads and run around their yard tomorrow will die a horrible death. Money will rain from the sky in five hours and six minutes. You two will get married and have eleven children with Japanese names."

"Oh, look, I can see the supermarket from here!" Elizaveta almost fell as she leapt up to her feet, gesturing to the curb. "You can drop us off there!" The truck groaned as the man guided it to the sidewalk. "That's good! Thanks so much, Mr. Yao! We really appreciate the ride!"

She flung the side door open, grabbing onto his hand and yanking him out of the car, causing to almost trip and fall facedown on the sidewalk. Fortunately, he managed to regain his balance due to his football training.

The frantic smile was still etched onto her face as she waved at him until the truck creaked out of sight. Once he was gone, she let out a sigh of relief, puffing out her cheeks. "Well, that was really damn creepy."

"So, what Japanese names do you have in mind?" Gilbert asked innocently, trying to repress a snicker.

She shot him a glare. "Did you honestly believe that crap? Seriously, I'm never hitchhiking again. We were lucky that he didn't try anything."

"I thought that you'd be sad, since, you know, you left the Hello Kitty back there and all. We just love Hello Kitty," he quipped, whistling softly as he stuck his hands back into his pockets and followed her to the entrance of the supermarket.

"Would you stop it with-"

"GILBERT! ELIZAVETA!"

The two were engulfed by a huge hug which nearly sent both of them tumbling to the ground. The perpetrator pulled away, her face teary and filled with relief. "I'm so glad that you're safe."

"Um, we're okay, Ms. Braginski," Liz assured the woman, giving her an awkward pat on the back. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

She let go of them, dabbing her eyes. "Worried's an understatement! I was scared to death! I called the police. What on earth were the two of you doing?"

"Having eleven children with Japanese names," Gil muttered under his breath.

"What-?"

"Just forget it. It's a long story."

"Well, don't think that I'm going to let you two off on this! I made everyone wait here while they were searching for you. I think I deserve an explanation," she sniffled, reaching into her purse. The teacher pulled out a pink pad of paper and a pen, scrawling on two before shoving one at the two of them. "Detention tomorrow during lunch."

"Ms. Braginski-"

The woman stormed away and flipped open her phone before he could stop her.

Liz stared at the tiny square of pink paper for a minute. Suddenly, she punched Gil in the face, sending him stumbling backwards, cupping the red weal on his cheek. "What the hell was that for?"

"For everything," she said simply, face burning red with anger, before walking away.

He gazed at her in disbelief, shaking his head and mumbling scornfully, "Women."


	7. Chapter 7

Ms. Braginski sat in the teacher's desk at the front of the room. Today, due to the slightly colder weather, she donned flowery-print leggings, a light gray blazer over a rose pink blouse, a silver heart necklace, and a pair of simple flats. She was clacking away at her laptop, eyes slightly glazed over.

Of course, Gil wouldn't have been able to make such careful and detailed observations if he wasn't so goddamn bored. Drumming his fingers against the rough, doodled-on surface of the desk he was currently slouching in, he shot another look at the clock. Still seven a half minutes to go.

He exhaled in exasperation, suddenly overcome by a strange desire to punch a wall and scream at the top of his lungs. Instead, however, he opted for turning ever-so-slightly to his right (so he wouldn't get noticed) and glanced at his fellow detention-ee.

It didn't come as much of a surprise to Gil that Liz looked extraordinary grumpy, resting her chin on her palm and staring gloomily out the window. He supposed that she was still pissed off from the unfortunate episode the afternoon before- understandably so, he had to admit.

But what made him increasingly irritated was the fact that she was acting like it was _entirely_ his fault. He had given up enough of his pride to admit that he was _mostly_ to blame. In fact, he was willing to say seventy-five percent of it was his fault.

Also, the dilemma was quickly solved when Ms. Braginski flitted into the store to buy the paper goods and hopped back into the bus to take the aggravated club back to school. Overall, everything after the fiasco Gil and Liz had caused had went smoothly, with the club's picnic entirely planned out.

So he had the right to be at least a little pissed off at her.

XXX

The mid-October Saturday was warm and slightly breezy, small gusts of wind sending the orange-bronze leaves tumbling to the ground. At about noon, Gil tumbled out of bed, brushed his teeth, and put on a maroon sweatshirt, jeans, and his beat-up sneakers, before climbing onto his rusty bicycle that he rarely used and riding to the river-side park.

After ten minutes of pedaling around town in the chilly morning, he found the park, turning a sharp left and pulling into a parking lot. After pressing down on the brake, he hopped off the bicycle and chained it to the curb, before making his way to a small, grassy hill where he saw his clubmates gathered.

The park was very woody and filled with mostly green trees, their leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. Families were scattered around the hilly area, the smoky smell of roasting burgers filling the air as most of the park's visitors picnicked or engaged in games of frisbee or tag.

As he made his way towards his sort-of friends, a snide voice spoke up from behind him, "Nice to see _you_ here, Beilschmidt."

Gil turned around, startled, but his scarlet eyes narrowed in anger as he noticed who it was. "Edelstein-"

"Hi, Roderich!" Elizaveta, grinning from ear to ear and wearing a somewhat casual ensemble of a purple t-shirt and plaid shorts, approached them, her chestnut hair tied back in a messy bun. "How are you-"

"What the hell is _he _doing here?" Gil snapped, jabbing his index finger accusatively in his face.

"She invited me, idiot," Roderich waved Gil's hand away from his face, scowling. "You were allowed to invite people to come to the picnic, you know." Upon seeing the shocked look on his rival's face, he smirked, taunting haughtily, "What? Are you too much of a dunce to-"

"Gilbert!" Before he could react, someone leapt on top of him, wrapping his arms around Gil's neck and giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"Francey?" Gil asked incredulously, dazed and seemingly unembarrassed by his friend's antics. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Hola, Gil!" He shoved his blonde friend off of him, turning around to see Antonio ambling towards them, brown hair a disheveled mess and hands shoved in his khaki pockets.

"You guys, you-"

"I invited them because I figured that you'd be too stubborn to do it yourself!" Elizaveta crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a smug look. "Ready to thank me yet?"

"Thank you? More like punch you in the face for not minding your own goddamn business!" He fumed, his fist trembling.

Her green eyes widened, face turning a bright tomato red, lips moving soundlessly as she tried to find the words to speak. She finally let out a huff of frustration, shouting, "Idiot! I was just trying to be nice! Are you too much of a bastard to accept that? I just invited your friends because I thought that you'd appreciate it! And instead, you're yelling at me?"

"Oh, now you're trying to be nice to me? What happened to being a bitch? You ignore me for the entire week, blame the entire getting-lost thing on me, like you're some goddamn saint or something! What the hell happened to knowing what you were doing?" he fired back, ignoring the fact that everyone was turning in the direction to see what all of the commotion was about.

"Oh, so we're bringing this back up again?" Liz spat. Roderich tapped her on the arm and whispered something to her, but she merely shook her head and shrugged him off. "Don't you get it? I'm trying to say sorry."

"Sorry doesn't mean getting my friends involved in this stupid club thing! And you bring this asshat too!" He pointed at Roderich, who grumbled something under his breath, appearing disgruntled.

She clenched her fists, flustered. "Who I bring is none of your business! And you two are friends, right?"

"Since when? I've hated him since eighth grade! Or are you too dumb to realize that too?"

"S-shut up-"

"What are we fighting about?" another voice joined the conversation, cheery and seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere. "Make pasta, not war-"

"Oh, it's you," Gil stated bluntly. His classmate beamed angelically at him, hair a messy tornado around his head.

"Feli~!" Liz ran towards the shorter boy, wrapping her arms affectionately around his shoulders and pressing her cheeks against his. "How's my little baby?"

"And now she's being all rainbow and sunshine," Gil confided to his two friends, who had stood awkwardly by while he and Liz had been shouting at each other. He groaned, letting out a huff of exasperation. "I'm never gonna understand girls. Maybe I'll just stick to being an awesome bachelor for the rest of my life."

"This is why men make the best lovers~!" Francis winked flirtatiously at him, striking a feline-esque pose and meowing at him.

"Stop it. Your gay is rubbing off on me." Gil rolled his eyes, edging away from his friend.

"Aw, Gilly, you're so cold~!"

"Um, hey, Gilbert," a timid voice piped up from his left, quiet and uncertain.

He gave Francis one last shove, before turning to the person. "Oh, you're Lili, right?"

The short girl with her chin-length blonde hair tied up with royal purple ribbons fidgeted, staring at a patch of dry grass and mumbling under her breath, "Yeah."

"So I'm guessing Liz invited you too?" He arched an eyebrow at her, wondering why she had wanted to talk to him in the first place.

She nodded shyly. Her lips moved soundlessly for a couple of seconds, her face turning crimson as she managed to squeak out, "How's the tutoring going?"

"She told you about that?" He put on a confident smile, waving his hand airily. "Oh, nothing that I can't do. Books don't stand a chance against my awesomeness."

Lili's lips upturned into a cute little smile. "Well, it's nice to see the two of you getting along. She didn't seem too happy about it at first."

Elizaveta noticed her best friend and worst nightmare chatting, the latter of the two gesturing wildly, an irritatingly smug smirk on his face as Lili nodded.

"So I told Lovi that-"

"Hold on a sec, Feli," she interrupted her friend's rambling, eyes narrowing in suspicion at her target, who most certainly would be taking a fist to the face if he was doing anything funny to Lili. "I've got a stupid pervert to deal with."

Before he could protest, she stormed over to where they were chatting, and grabbed the front of Gil's sweatshirt, shouting, "What do you think you're doing to Lili?"

His scarlet eyes widened in surprise as he found himself face to face with his very pissed-off tutor, but he quickly recomposed himself and gave her a murderous scowl. "What the hell? I was just talking to her, dumbass."

"I don't need you harassing my friends!"

"What, so you can just invite _my_ friends here and I can't even say two sentences to one of yours without you blowing up at me? What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"You, you little-"

"Stop being so defensive, Lizzie. He's telling the truth," Lili glared at her best friend, crossing her arms and speaking with a certain confidence and authority that no one would have thought possible. "Now stop being immature and just let go of him! Why are you jumping to conclusions so quickly? He did nothing to me. I just said hi and we started to talk. Do you really think there's something wrong with that?"

Liz reluctantly let go of him, glowering darkly. Barely looking at him, she muttered under breath, "Sorry."

Gil shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. "Whatever."

He had to wonder what the real purpose of the Oyster Club was. Even though Ms. Braginski insisted that it was for them to form bonds with people they ordinarily never would have talked to, it seemed like all they ever did was piss each other off and create even bigger problems than the ones that were originally handed to them.

The boy sighed, breathing in the aroma of cooking burgers mixed with the musty scent of nature.

Things definitely weren't looking up for Gilbert Beilschmidt.

XXX

After cramming the last bit of his sort-of soggy hot dog bun in his mouth, Gil hummed in satisfaction, leaning back on his palms.

He, Elizaveta, Lili, Roderich, Feli, Lovino, Francis, and Antonio had been crammed onto one large picnic table. The surface was slightly worn and graffitied on, but they all managed to somewhat enjoy their lunch of hot dogs and hamburgers (slightly burnt, due to Ms. Braginski's less than competent grilling ability), homemade coleslaw (courtesy of Katarina), and soda.

Francis and Antonio were the driving force of the conversation, joking around and making small talk with everyone, considering that everyone else was too pissed off to pay attention. Everyone seemed lost in their own worlds, methodically chewing their food.

But Elizaveta was probably the worst. A dark aura seemed to surround her as she tore her hamburger bun into pieces, placing them in her mouth one by one as she refused to make eye contact and sulked.

In a couple of minutes, they had all finished their meal. Gil drummed his fingers against the surface of the table, sneaking peeks at his tablemates every once in awhile.

Suddenly, Roderich stood up and cleared his throat. "There's a beach here, correct?"

They all mumbled in assent. He nodded, turning to Gil, violet eyes glinting with something he couldn't identify. "Beilschmidt, I'd like to challenge you to a game of volleyball. We'll play to fifteen."

Gil quizzically raised an eyebrow, before a smirk upturned his lips and he leapt to his feet. "You're on, Edelstein."

"Anyone who wants to join us is welcome," Roderich announced, turning to the others.

"Beilschmidt and I are the captains. Four on four." He shot Gil a smug look, suggesting, "Why don't we take turns picking our teams? You can go first."

"Gladly." He pointed at his Hispanic friend, a maniacal grin lighting up his face. "Antonio."

"Elizaveta."

"Francis."

"Lovi."

"Lili."

The remaining boy beamed at everyone, waving his arms angelically. "Pick me! Pick me!"

Roderich sent him a distasteful sideways glance and sighed ruefully. "Feliciano."

"Yay, let's play!" He pumped a fist into the air, before tilting his head to the side, confused as to why everyone seemed to be scowling at each other. "What's wrong?"

Gil shook his head, managing a lopsided grin and a thumbs-up. "Nothing. What the hell are you doing, Edelstein-bastard? Get your damn ball and prepare for a major ass-kicking!"

XXX

Once Roderich had returned with a leather volleyball under his arm, they all took their shoes off and left them near their picnic table, racing each other barefoot to the beach.

The sand was grainy and filled with the occasional sliver of glass, but warm from an entire morning of sitting in the sun. Gil wiggled his toes, feeling the comfortable heat envelope his skin.

The river was calm today, tiny waves lapping at the shore. A small fishing boat could be seen in the distance, almost obscured by the branches of a drooping tree.

Feli was spinning around in circles, laughing all the while as Liz did her best to stop him from cutting his foot on the glass, running around and shouting at him to stop fooling around.

Near the end of the beach was an obviously neglected volleyball court, the net slightly torn and frayed. Roderich picked up a discarded water bottle and deposited on the edge of the court, nose wrinkled in disgust.

Gil watched him with an amused expression on his face as he took off his sweatshirt, flinging it so that landed on the sand. He stretched, spreading his arms out before leaning down to touch his toes, grinning the entire time.

The bastard didn't know what he had coming for him. He was a decently experienced volleyball player, having played it on the team in middle school. And Antonio and Francis happened to be his secret weapons. As long as they kept the ball a reasonably distance from the obviously terrified Lili, they should be fine.

Francis and Antonio jogged towards him, Lili trailing nervously behind them. Gil grinned at them, waving them over. "Ready?"

"Of course!" The blonde Frenchman blew a kiss in his direction, winking.

They exchanged high-fives, and Gil let his eyes flicker to the other time. They were clustered together, whispering quietly about some sort of strategy.

He let out a huff of frustration, before shouting impatiently, "You morons ready yet? We're getting tired of waiting."

Roderich merely rolled his eyes and his team exchanged high-fives before moving to their positions. Elizaveta bent her knees, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. Lovi looked equally as serious, ignoring his brother who was skipping in place next to him.

The bespectacled football player took a deep breath, ball held in the palm of his hand as he prepared an overhand serve. He tossed it into the air, a loud smack resounding through the air as he hit it, the ball sailing over the net in a high arc.

"Got it!" Gil shouted, crouching down to bump it towards Francis, who set it perfectly, giving Antonio a chance to jump into the air and successfully spike it over.

Liz ran to try and salvage the rapidly downward-spiralling ball, but she only managed to knock it a bit to the left, too low for anyone else to save it.

"Nice job, guys!" Gil flashed them all a toothy smile, basking in the glory of their small victory and enjoying the irritated look on Roderich's face as he rolled the ball under the net for them to serve. "Much appreciated, asshole."

His rival humphed, rolling his eyes. He snickered, and served the ball. It teetered on the edge of the net, before falling onto Roderich's end. Lovi stumbled forward, bumping it over.

Lili stood there, petrified as the ball neared closer and closer.

"You can do it, Lili!"

Her eyes widened in surprise, but at the last moment she hit the ball with a single hand. Even if that definitely was not the correct way to pass in the game, she had managed to get it high enough in the air for him to bump it over. And that happened to be good enough for him. "Nice job, Lili."

The game continued for a bit, the teams panting and sweating as they batted the ball back and forth, their scores almost tied.

Gil lunged forward, almost tripping as he set the ball.

"Feli, watch out!" Liz shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth.

The boy had been dozing off, and has cost the team several points due to his short attention span. The ball was zooming towards him, and he merely gave it a dazed look before it clonked him on the head, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Goddammit," Roderich cursed, running to catch him before he could hit the ground.

Liz knelt down, brow creased. "Feli! Feli, can you hear me? Feli!"

"Ugh...," the Italian groaned. "Dizzy...tired..."

Gil's team ran to the opposite side to inspect the damage. Lili looked around at everyone, eyes wide and fearful. "Do you guys think he might have a concussion?"

"Some sort of head trauma." Liz nodded in agreement. "Anyways, we can't let him fall asleep. If he does, he might fall into a coma and who knows what would happen after that? I'll go get Ms. Braginski. We have to get his mom to pick him up."

"Wait-" Gil reached out a hand towards her, but before he could stop her, she scrambled to her feet and jogged towards the picnic area.

He clacked his tongue, frowning. "So we just have to keep him awake, right? Anyone got a way to distract him? This kid's got the attention span of a flea, so we gotta think of something good."

Lili reached into her pocket, face contorted in concentration as she sifted through it. Her face lit up as she pulled something out. "Aha! So I _do_ have a pack!"

"What-"

It was a pack of Uno cards. Gil beamed at her. "Lili, you're a genius."

"Who carries a pack of Uno cards around with them anyways?" Lovino grumbled under his breath, eyeing his brother skeptically.

Lili blushed. "Well, I have a little sister, and when we go to other people's houses, this is the only way to entertain her!"

"Don't complain. This is going to save your brother's life." Roderich gave him a stern look, before gently propping Feli up into a sitting position. "Come on, kid. Look alive."

"Assuming that I'd want that," Lovi muttered darkly under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wha?" the boy said sleepily, looking around at his surroundings with half-closed eyes. "Tired. I want pasta."

"You can have your pasta later." Antonio smiled patiently at him, turning to Lili. "Let's get this game started!"

She nodded gratefully to him, dealing out the cards facedown. The game started with some difficulty, considering that the majority of them hadn't played the game since elementary school, but it worked reasonably well in pacifying Feli.

Five minutes later, Elizaveta returned, bearing news that Ms. Braginski had successfully contacted Mrs. Vargas and that she would arrive in a half an hour.

Gil grinned as he placed down two sevens, one a bright yellow, the other forest green. "Uno!"

"Dammit," Roderich growled under his breath, glaring murderously at the six cards still in his hand. "What's wrong with this game?"

Despite the undeniably odd circumstances, the tension within in the group had dissolved and everyone seemed to be getting along (or at least pretending to) for Feli's sake. Liz's facial expression brightened considerably from sitting behind her friend and quietly giving him tips on what moves to make.

Gil couldn't suppress the goofy grin that spread across his face. A breeze tickled his face and he looked out towards the still calm and serene river.

High schoolers sure were stupid sometimes.


	8. Chapter 8

Gil plopped himself down on Liz's couch, snatching a worn pillow and placing it in his lap as she sat down to join him. Katarina placed a plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of them, beaming. "Happy studying, you two!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Liz scowled, grabbing a cookie and shoving the entire thing into her mouth. Her mother shot Gil a knowing look, before sighing and heading back into the kitchen.

"Now, what's with that attitude?" He smirked. "Having a bad day?"

It had become sort of routine for him. After the final bell rung, he would head to the club, in which Ms. Braginski, with a seemingly undepletable supply of hope and charisma, attempted to stir them all into excitement by introducing new ideas and ways they could "better society" and "become more independent and caring individuals". Once the meeting had been adjourned, he would follow Liz back home, his feet practically carrying themselves. They would sit down, eat something Katarina had whipped up for them, and get some work done.

It was as if things were the way they used to be.

But that wasn't to say that they pissed each other off and got into fights on a daily basis. Nevertheless, he could tell that she had somewhat accepted his reappearance in her life and had sort of forgiven him for what had happened all of those years ago.

But that didn't stop him from teasing her at every given opportunity.

"Shut up!" She stuck her tongue out at him. There was a pause in which neither of them said anything. Her hands fidgeted slightly, and without looking at him, she blurted out, "So, um, how's your dad?"

"Oh, well..." Gil struggled to find the words to answer, slightly thrown off by her sudden question. "He, uh, couldn't find a good job here, so he moved to Virginia. He works there now, and sends us money every once in awhile." When he saw the surprise on her face, he plastered a confident smile on his face and hastily said, "We rent half of a house from a contact of his, and Ludwig and I both have part-time jobs, so everything's awesome! He gives us a call every other week, and sends us birthday cards, even if they're sent a few months early sometimes, but...yeah! We're doing just fine."

She nodded, still staring at her lap. "That's good. I'm glad to hear that."

Still getting the feeling that she was sort of off, he abruptly changed the subject and dove into his pocket, sifting through loose papers and disorganized binders. "I've got great news!"

"And what would that be?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

He finally found it, humming in satisfaction and lifting up two crinkled, messily stapled together pieces of loose-leaf. "I got a B on my history paper!"

Liz managed a small smile. "Good for you, Gil. Nice to know that you're not as stupid as I thought."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He leaned forward and gave her a stern look, jutting a thumb towards his chest. "I've always been this awesome! You're just jealous!"

"Of what?" She wrinkled her nose at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your ability to burp the alphabet after you've had enough ginger ale? I'd rather not."

"You've gotta admit, that's pretty damn impressive." He grinned crookedly, before lifting a heavy textbook out of his backpack and placing it in his lap with a grunt. After spending a good thirty seconds flipping through the ridiculously thick monstrosity, he finally found the page he had been searching for, pointing to a complicated diagram. "I really don't get this, so could you explain this to me?"

"Um, okay then." Elizaveta gingerly moved closer to him, sliding the book a bit so it was halfway on her lap. She studied it for a moment, before launching into explanation, gesturing wildly as he took notes on what she was saying.

After a fair amount of bickering, Gil glanced at his watch, eyes widening in surprise. He tapped Liz on the shoulder, interrupting another lengthy lecture. "Sorry, but I really have to go now."

"Are you sure that you can't stay a little bit longer? I'm almost done explaining-"

"Nah, there's a place that needs my awesomeness even more!" He forced a grin, flashing a thumbs-up at her. "Thanks, though. I pretty much got the idea. If you keep up the good work, you might just become an awesome person!" Cue the charming wink.

She rolled her eyes. "Um, thanks?"

"No problem!" He swung his backpack over his shoulder and stood up, heading for the door. "See you tomorrow, Katarina!"

The woman poked her head out of the kitchen, frowning as the boy put his sweater back on. "You're leaving already? Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"

"Nah, I'm good!" He slipped into his shoes and opened the door, waving jovially. "Have a good night, you two!"

As the front door slammed, Liz sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. That Gilbert could be so damn confusing sometimes. But it was still obvious that he was hiding something.

Honestly, that boy was like a wall of transparent glass when it came to keeping secrets.

She let out a huff of frustration as she stormed to her room and grabbed the denim jacket off of her unmade bed, before plopping herself down on the couch and lacing her converse sneakers up. Her clumsy fingers moved as fast as they could, and soon she was back on her feet. After deeming her lace job not too shabby, she hollered to her mother, "I'll be back soon!"

Before her mother could protest and even ask where she was going, she was out the door.

It was already dark despite the fact that it was only a quarter until seven, on account of how it was already mid to late October. The sky was a blue-ish black, thin wisps of clouds floating through the atmosphere.

A heavy gust of wind sent a pile of leaves scattering. Liz shivered, pulling her denim jacket tighter around her torso, her chestnut hair whipping in the wind. God, it was as cold as hell.

So why was she doing this? Even she herself didn't know the answer.

Squinting, she saw the outline of a tall, lanky figure she assumed was Gilbert disappear around the corner. Gritting her teeth and cursing her crappy judgment, she quickened her pace, hoping that the sound of leaves crunching under her feet wasn't _too_ loud.

Liz peeked around a brick building, gripping the cold, rough surface with her right hand. The figure was still ambling down the block, shoulders hunched. Now that she was closer, it was obvious that it was him. His snow-white hair shone in the glow of a streetlight, the faded, worn jacket embroidered with the words "Ashwick Alligators".

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. He was walking towards a less populated part of town, and she was almost one hundred percent sure that he didn't live there.

So why the hell was he heading in that direction?

Damn her curiosity for getting the better of her.

Liz watched him turn left, before nodding to no one in particular and muttering under her breath, "Let's go!"

The cold biting at her bare skin, she grunted and took off, running down the sidewalk, heart pounding. Oddly enough, the sensation of the wind whistling in her ears was somehow refreshing, and reminded her with a pang of her field hockey days.

A reminder of how much she had given up to tutor the dumbass.

Shaking this off, she continued to chase after him, stopping when she was barely several yards behind him. He had slowed down considerably, and was walking in the direction of...an empty lot?

_What?_ She did a double-take, making sure she wasn't hallucinating or anything. But she had been right- Gilbert Beilschmidt, class dunce and the king of arrogant jocks, was kneeling down on the soil of the lot and digging through his backpack.

She took a couple of steps closer. What the hell was he doing? Was he planning to commit some act of vandalism? Should she report him? Would he get sent to jail? Was he looking for a can of spray paint or a hammer?

She unconsciously held her breath. Time seemed to slow down as he found what he was looking for.

But what came out of the bag was nothing like what she had expected. On the contrary, it was...

A pair of gloves and a rusty spade.

He pulled the gloves on with a snap, flexing his fingers, before picking up the spade and plunging it into the ground. When he lifted it up, a dandelion had been pulled from its roots. He flung it to the side, repeating the process.

She gaped at him. Pulling weeds with nothing more than a small spade? Was he insane? And what was he trying to accomplish?

After a moment of indecision, she couldn't take it anymore. Rushing forward, she recomposed herself and put her hands on her hips. "So _this _is what you've been doing?"

He almost leapt a mile into the air, whirling around and widening his eyes in surprise. He pointed a shaky finger at her, stuttering, "Y-you-"

"Me," she said simply, before demanding, "Anyways, what the hell are you doing?"

He turned his back towards her once more. Still crouching down on the ground, he didn't speak for a few seconds, wringing his hands out. She waited impatiently for a response.

Gil cocked his head to the side, turning his head slightly to grin impishly at her. "So I take it you're my personal stalker now?" He laughed at the sight of her tomato red face. "Why so embarrassed? Just feel lucky that it's me. Not all guys would take this so-"

"Oh, shut up!" she interrupted angrily, swatting him on the head. "Are you ever gonna stop being an insufferable bastard?"

"Oh, stop trying to change the subject." He waved a hand airily, humming a merry tune to himself. "So are you gonna tell me why you followed me or not? I'm an impatient man and I-"

"Alright, fine!" she shouted, growling in frustration. "You seemed sort of down when I asked you about your dad, and then you were acting all suspicious and freakishly nice-"

"What are you talking about? I'm always nice!" Gil cut her off indignantly.

She resisted the urge to bash his head in, clenching her fists. "Ugh, shut the hell up! Can you just let me finish?"

When he didn't say anything after that, she continued in the same rambly fashion, "Anyways, you don't seem to be the type of bastard that'd refuse dinner from the best goddamn cook in the area and you were in a rush so I thought something was up and that it had something to do with your dad and I keep trying to make an effort to be nice to you and you just keep turning me down so I thought that I could try to understand you better and find out what was bugging you!"

Liz inhaled deeply and waited for his reaction. "Well?"

He burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, doubling over and clutching his stomach. His laugh was hiccupy and obnoxiously loud, and Elizaveta was certain he had woken up everyone in a ten mile radius. "Oh God, Liz, you're just too funny!"

Choosing not to beat the crap out of him this time, she sighed resignedly, gingerly lowering herself down to the ground. She ran her fingers through the rough soil. "Since I followed you here, I think I should get some answers. What are you doing here anyways?"

He wiped a tear away from his eyes, picking up his spade and twirling it in his fingers. "Well, I thought it would've been obvious."

"Well, it's not, so spill it!" she demanded.

The look on his face was halfway serious. Or at least the most serious Elizaveta had ever seen it. "I'm planting a garden."

She gaped. "A what?"

"Do I really have to-"

"No, I heard what you said!" she snapped a bit too forcefully. She seemed to notice this, however, lowering her voice and muttering, "Sorry. That was out-of-line. It's just that, I wouldn't have expected-"

"The manly Gilbert Beilschmidt to plant a garden?" He chuckled bitterly, leaning back and sheepishly running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, figures. I just seem too cool for that, I guess."

"I never said anything about you being manly or cool!" Liz retorted hotly. "It's just, um, it seems unlike you. What are you gonna plant here anyways?"

"I don't really know yet." He shrugged, tilting his head up and gazing at the night sky. "Vegetables, flowers...I'm still saving money for it, so I guess whatever I can buy. I don't have to plant them until spring, and I have plenty of time before then...so, yeah. I haven't really thought about it yet."

She didn't say anything. He grinned crookedly at her. "So what are you gonna do now? It's perfect black-mailing material. You could get me to be your slave, anything you want, really."

"Is gardening that much of an embarrassment to you?" she questioned softly.

He thought about it. "I guess? I don't really know how I feel about it. But you have to agree, it wouldn't look good for me if they found out that I was maintaining a garden in my spare time.

"But I seem like the people I hang out with, right? I'm stupid, I get into fights all the time, I can't get most stuff that easily. But I guess I'm a little different? Maybe a little more awesome?" he quipped, internally smiling at the disgruntled look on her face. "I guess I'm not ready to do all of those 'grown-up' things yet. Losing my virginity, getting drunk- you know, that stuff. I kind of just want to be a kid again."

Liz tucked her legs into her chest, staring at the ground. "Same here. I don't want to make the same mistakes my mom made."

She gritted her teeth, fighting back tears. "What the hell was she thinking? Dating some random creep when she was still a freshman, sleeping with him without thinking about the consequences...it ruined her life. She could have graduated, gotten into college, followed her dreams. But no. It was all ruined. Just because of that one mistake."

"Society's really fucked-up, huh?" Gil laughed humorlessly. "That got really personal, didn't it? I didn't think you'd ever tell me something like that. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll throw out a cheesy line- you wouldn't be here with me if it weren't for that mistake."

He wondered where this conversation was going, but he just continued plowing through, saying whatever popped up in his mind. "Things happen for a reason, I guess. Even if you _did_ screw up some parts of her life- yeah, I can't really say that you're wrong about that. But you know...you changed it for the better too. She loves you. You're, like, her whole world. And if you weren't there, I-I wouldn't have gotten through...you know what."

At this point, he had completely lost his composure and the words just wouldn't stop pouring out of his mouth. "If you weren't there, I probably would've just killed myself. If you weren't helping me and stopping me from screwing everything up, I'd be expelled by now. So don't act like you're just a mistake, Liz. I owe a lot to you. A lot of people do."

A tear dripped down her cheek. She couldn't find the words to speak.

"Wow, I can't believe I just said that." He let out a short laugh, but he became serious again, asking tentatively, "Can we just make up?"

He reached over to place his hand on hers. She twitched slightly, but relaxed, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of his fingertips enclosed over hers. "I'm sorry, Liz."

"I..." She struggled, lips moving soundlessly. "...yeah. I'm sorry for being such a bitch. Kids are just so stupid. You shouldn't have done that, but...there's no reason to be mad anymore. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He nodded, swallowing back his tears. Gil scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She cried quietly, breathing in the musty scent of his sweater.

And at that moment, she didn't care that she had a boyfriend and that Gil was a good-for-nothing moron, but goddammit, those words meant more than anything Roderich (or anyone else, for that matter) could ever say to her.

"What about the garden?" she asked, her voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. "What are you planning to do with all of the stuff you grow?"

He shrugged. "Donate it to a foodbank? Give it to Katarina? I don't know."

She smiled. "You're a good person, sometimes. But only sometimes."

"That's big, coming from someone like you. I'm honored," he joked, sitting up and gazing fondly at the night sky. "Why don't we get you home? It's kind of cold out here, and even though my awesomeness is really hot and you're probably falling head-over-heels for me right now, I'd hate it if you got sick or something."

He stood up and dusted off his pants. She shivered after the warm weight of his arm had been lifted from her, the comforting heat gone. Liz took the hand he offered her and stood back up, his hand holding hers for a second too long.

She suddenly realized just how exhausted she was, seeing how he practically had to help her walk. "So, do you need any help with the garden? I...I wouldn't mind."

"Really? Are you being serious about that?" He gave her a quizzical look that she could barely spot in the darkness. "You don't have to-"

"No." She halted in her tracks. "I will."

He still appeared slightly confused. "If that's what you want."

And, looking back, Liz realized that may have been the very day she started falling for that arrogant, self-centered, insufferable, migraine-inducing little prick.


	9. Chapter 9

"Good afternoon, everyone!" Ms. Braginski waved her club members inside the science lab, beaming at them. "I have great news for you all!"

"I'm starting to wonder what 'great news' means to her," Arthur grumbled to himself as he thrust his backpack to the ground and slouched in his desk chair, dark rings under his green eyes.

Gil snickered, before sliding into the seat next to a yawning Elizaveta. Her gaze flickered to him, face contorting into a dark scowl in a failed attempt to hide the fact that her face was rapidly turning a tomato red.

"What's with that face?" He grinned impishly at her, casually leaning his chin on the back of his palm. "Didn't we just make up?"

Liz let out a huff of frustration, pointedly looking away from him.

Deciding to provoke her further, he leaned towards her and playfully flicked the tip of her nose, whispering huskily, "Well, I was thinking, because of last night..." He drifted off, grinning as he waited for her reaction.

Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment, cheeks flushed. After a few seconds, however, he managed to compose herself, shooting him a death glare and swatting his hand away. "Asshole.

He clacked his tongue, giving her a mock stern look. "Manners, Lizzie."

"Shut-"

"Alright! Are we all settled in?" Ms. Braginski raised her voice. The soft buzz of silence slowly clattered to a halt, nine faces looking expectantly at her.

She smiled graciously at them, clapping her hands together. "Great. Let's begin the meeting! As you all know, Halloween is fast approaching."

"Meow," Heracles murmured sleepily, his head still on the desk.

"Thank you, Heracles." Ms. Braginski gave him a patronizing look, but shook her head. "Where was I? Oh yes, Halloween...well, I was thinking that we should do something special for the holiday! So after a lot of thinking, I decided that we should hold a little Halloween party on the thirtieth!"

"Party, party!" Alfred cheered, fist-pumping as he bit into his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Um, Ms. Braginski?" Elizaveta raised her hand, frowning. "Don't you think we're a too old for something like that?"

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't very clear, was I?" the teacher laughed sheepishly. "What I _meant_ to say was I thought that we could do some planning together and hold a party for some kids in the community."

Feliks stood up, slapping his hands on the surface of his desk. "Does that mean we get to wear costumes? I call French maid"

"You _want_ to be a French maid?" Lovino scoffed, making a face. "Just how gay _are _you?"

"Gay for Arthur!"

"Wait...what-"

"I'm the hero~!"

"Where the hell-"

"I mean, wouldn't I look totally _badass_ in a-"

"EVERYBODY, SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Liz sat down, slowly removing her cupped hands from her mouth. She coughed delicately into her fist, turning to Ms. Braginski. "Please continue."

The woman blinked dumbfoundedly at the club, before hastily flipping through the pages of her clipboard. She cleared her throat. "Well, I called the community center to ask them if we could use their gym for the party. They gave us the okay on that last night...Mr. Vargas also agreed to provide funds for the project, so that's also covered..."

She looked up from her notes, smiling brightly. "Well, that's all I have to say. I was thinking that today, we could come up with some ideas for activities. Please share your thoughts! Everything will be taken into consideration."

Arthur raised his hand. Ms. Braginski was obviously relieved that they weren't all acting like corpses for once and called on him with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Yes, Arthur?"

"I think we could build a haunted house," he replied in the same bored tone, picking at his dirty nails. "It would be bloody cool if we could get another room, and put up a load of skulls and other Halloween decorations and we could get Heracles to dress up as a zombie-"

"Wha-"

"Thank you for your creative idea, Arthur, but I don't think we have enough room in our budget to do something so elaborate," Ms. Braginski interrupted him hastily, plastering a cheery smile on her face. "But we might be able do a simplified version of what your idea. Maybe a play tunnel with a few decorations for the kids to crawl through?"

The Brit shrugged, slouching back into his seat as she scrawled it down. "Arthur...haunted house."

Feliks stuck his hand into the air, waving it in the air. "Pick me, pick me!"

"Yes?"

He beamed at her, launching into explanation. "I have a painting kit at home and a book of designs, so I thought I could be in charge of a face-painting!"

"That's a wonderful suggestion, Feliks!" Ms. Braginski exclaimed, jotting it down on her clipboard. "Will you need anything else for it other than what you've already got?"

"Nothing I can't get myself." He winked at her, flashing a thumbs-up.

"Excellent! So...Feliks for painting faces...anyone else want to put their thoughts in?"

Ms. Braginski called on Elizaveta. She sat up straighter, saying enthusiastically, "My mom's a really good baker, so I think she should just bake fifty or so plain sugar cookies and make some frosting for us. Then we could have the kids decorate them with piping bags, which are the only things that we could probably use a few more of." The teacher scribbled something on her clipboard. "She tried it out for my cousin's birthday party once, and everyone loved it, so I think it would really well for something like this!"

"Sounds great! Elizaveta and Gilbert...cookie decorating."

"Wait, _what_?"

Liz clamped a hand on Gil's mouth, laughing nervously. "Um, are you sure about that? We should have as many stations as possible, so...erm, it would be a waste of manpower if the two of us did one station that doesn't actually need that much work to begin with. So...yeah. Not the best idea."

"Not at all," Gil added, giving the teacher an urgent look and hoping that she would be able to take the hint.

But Ms. Braginski merely frowned at them. "Why not? We're giving kids sugar and they need as much supervision as they can get." Arthur nodded vigorously, shooting the giggling Alfred a look. "Besides, the more they wreck the gym, the more we have to clean it up. The center definitely won't be happy if they find a huge mess in there. And, trust me, you're not going to want to clean it up."

Liz looked like she was going to say something else, but she just sighed, lifting her hand off of his mouth and huffing in frustration. Her face contorted into a scowl.

The last thing she wanted was to see his stupid face anymore than she had to.

He shrugged, mouthing "sorry".

After an hour of prolonged discussion, the club had tentatively come up with the ideas of "pin the bow on the skeleton", mask-making, crafting pipe cleaner spiders, and learning some sort of Halloween-ish dance (courtesy of Alfred).

Ms. Braginski finished writing the last word with a flourish, placing the clipboard back onto the teacher's desk. "Excellent job, everyone! And now, to answer Feliks' question from earlier... yes, we're going to be wearing costumes!"

"Joy," Natalya grumbled almost inaudibly. Gil couldn't help but agree with her.

The teacher reached into her mesh bag, sifting through its messy contents for a second, before pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. "Okay! The assigned costumes are as such..." She squinted at the looseleaf. "Alfred...Batman!"

"Hell, yeah!" he crowed, jumping up and down.

Gil sighed, complaining so that only she could hear him, "The way she acts, you'd think that we're five-year-olds or something."

"Well, that_ is _pretty much the extent of your maturity_,"_ she replied snarkily.

"Ooh, sick burn!" he mocked her, lifting up his hand as if offering a high-five.

Liz rolled her eyes but managed to ignore him, slouching further down her chair.

He internally congratulated himself, hoping that she would have to wear a bunny costume so he could tease her about it later (and maybe send a few photos to Roddy). Anything to piss his dear Elizaveta off and make her life that much more difficult.

Ah, this was just too much fun.

"Sadiq- pirate, Heracles- cat-"

"How fitting," Heracles purred sleepily, messily brushing his untamed brown locks from his face.

"What did you just say, punk?" Sadiq snarled, scowling at his nemesis.

"Well, the villain type character _does_ seem to suit you-"

"You little-"

Ms. Braginski cleared her throat loudly, effectively shutting them up. "Arthur- ghost, Lovi- mad scientist, Natalya- fairy princess-"

"_Fairy princess_?" Natalya interrupted her sister with a growl, hands shaking as she fought the urge to rip the pencil she had previously been twirling in her fingers into a million pieces. "Are you freaking serious?"

The woman giggled, gaze dreamy and unfocused. "You're going to look so adorable!"

The pyrotechnic cursed under her breath, collapsing back into her seat. Gil felt a wave of pity for her, even if the image of her in a bright pink tiara and tutu _was_ a little tempting. He couldn't stop the broad grin from spreading across his face, earning himself a death glare from Natalya.

"And last but not least: Feliks- prince, Gil- Dracula, Liz- banana!"

Gil shrugged. "Pretty cool."

"Banana?" Liz groaned. "That's pretty much synonymous with 'misery.'"

"Wanna trade?" Natalya said sarcastically, reclining in her chair.

Liz let out a huff of exasperation, turning away. "No."

Ms. Braginski put the sheet of paper back in her bag. "Now that that's settled, would anyone like to help make or buy the costumes?"

Liz raised her hand. "My mom and I can probably do something to help. Just tell us what you need, and it should be pretty easy."

"Great!" Ms, Braginski beamed gratefully at her. "I'll e-mail you about the details. Does anyone have any other questions?"

The majority of the club was too busy wallowing in their misery to answer.

"Great! Meeting dismissed! I'll see you all tomorrow!"

XXX

Gil gestured to a complicated diagram in his science textbook. "I don't really get-"

"Which color do you like better?" Liz interrupted him, lifting up two scraps of buttercup yellow and rose pink fabric still attached to cardboard squares. "For Natalya's costume."

"Um..." He was slightly taken aback. "Pink, I guess-"

"Cool." She pulled a crinkled notepad from her pocket, snatching away the pen Gil had been holding to scribble something down before tossing it back onto his lap. "Thanks."

"Glad you needed my input." Gil gave her a smug smirk. "But seriously...you're still working on it? What the hell happened?"

"Nothing really." Liz gritted her teeth. "That stupid girl just wouldn't give me her goddamn measurements until yesterday!" She tore out a sheet of paper, crumpled it into a ball and threw it against the wall. "Ugh, this whole costume thing is just a pain in the ass! It's taking way too much of my time. School's getting crazy, Ludwig's writing a new honor code, the school concert's in less than two months, and what the hell am I doing? Making a fairy dress for a pint-sized brat! I'm so fucking exhausted and no one gives a shit!"

After a moment of silence, he wordlessly handed her a cookie in response. She eyed it warily, before stuffing it into her mouth and chewing it noisily, face twitching in irritation.

"Better?"

"Better. Come on, moron. Back to work."

XXX

She finished putting the last touches on his make-up, face scrunched up in concentration as she applied one more coat of foundation onto his face. He scowled in discomfort, fidgeting in his chair. "Are you done yet?"

"Be patient!" she scolded, standing up and walking in front of him to examine her handiwork. She nodded to herself, bending down to rummage through the contents of her make-up bag, pulling out a mirror.

He snatched it away from her grasp, hungrily looking at his reflection. His white hair was slicked back with generous amounts of hair gel, dark circles drawn around his eyes with black pencil.

The party was already set up in the community center, the members of the club having arrived nearly two hours ago to prepare and get into costume. Liz had reluctantly agreed to do make-up duty, earning her a million "thank you"s from Ms. Braginski.

"Ugh, remind me to never do this again," she groaned, forcing his mouth open and sticking a set of plastic fangs inside, ignoring the hacking sound his throat made upon doing so. "Trying to put make-up on guys really isn't my thing."

"Well, you're not exactly _good_ at it." Gil stood up and swept his crimson cape over his shoulders, standing up. He was still grimacing, trying to adjust the mouthpiece into a slightly more bearable position.

Liz made a face at him. "It's not _my_ fault you just wouldn't sit still!"

"Not everyone likes getting their faces ripped apart for a million hours!"

"Oh, man-"

"Hurry the hell up!" Natalya shouted from outside the room. "It's freezing out here!"

Gil gave the girl a sardonic smile and a little wave, striding confidently out the door and doing his best not to burst into laughter at the sight of a sparkle-fied Natalya Braginski. "Good luck."

The boy placed paper plates around the edge of a flimsy, rectangular table, along with freshly-baked sugar cookie on each. He made sure no one was looking before hurriedly stuffing one into his mouth, chewing it rapidly.

"I saw that." Liz appeared behind him, eyes narrowed into an icy glare. "Greedy bastard."

"Whoa!" Gil whirled around, cookie crumbs spewing out of his mouth. He burst into laughter upon seeing her outfit, clutching his stomach and doubling over. "Holy shit, what are you _wearing_?"

She scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "My costume, dumbass."

His tutor was wearing a bright yellow banana suit over a black jumpsuit, a sour look on her face. He grinned at her. "So, when did you make that? It's pretty impressive."

"My friend's sister wore it last year, so I just borrowed it from her." She twirled a lock of chestnut hair between her fingers, fanning her face with the other hand. Her face was a tomato red, a drop of sweat trickling down her forehead. "God, it smells awful."

He peered closely at her face, placing a hand against her back and pulling her close to him. He pressed the back of his hand on her flushed forehead, surprised by how heated it actually was. "You sure you feel okay? You're kind of hot."

Her face turned a darker shade of red as she shoved his hand away, defiantly facing the other direction. "I'm fine, idiot."

He gave her a dubious look, but after deciding that she could take care of herself and wouldn't listen to him anyways, shrugged and turned his attention back to the cookies. "They're coming soon, so help me set up."

Sure enough, within a couple of minutes, a couple dozen children, after being kissed by their mothers, waddled into the gymnasium, bemused expressions on their faces.

Gil sighed. How the hell was he going to be able to deal with so many of them? Children were pretty much Satan's spawn in disguise. He shivered involuntarily at the image, earning himself a sharp look from Liz.

A cute, freckle-faced girl with a lollipop hanging from her mouth wandered over to their table. She stared at them for an unnaturally long time, hazel eyes wide and seemingly unblinking.

Gil had to admit that it was really unnerving. After Liz gave him a sharp jab in the ribs, he hurriedly bent down to her height and grinned awkwardly at her. "Hey."

She nodded in acknowledgement, before looking down at the table and pointing a stubby finger at a pumpkin-shaped cookie.

Liz smiled graciously at her, pushing the frosting and a piping bag closer to her. "Go on."

The girl closely examined the materials, before giving a minimal shake of her head and scurrying off, stumbling over the untied laces of her untied Dora the Explorer sneakers.

Gil raised an eyebrow in her direction, watching as she joined the growing line of chattering children that wanted to "pin the bow of the skeleton". For some reason he couldn't quite place, he felt mildly offended. "So...remind me what the hell that was about again?"

Liz shrugged, still fanning herself. "Probably just the shy type? I have no idea. But I guess it's kind of cute."

"Cute?" He snorted. "Yeah, right."

Two identical twin boys waddled up to the table, wide, jack-o-lantern smiles on their faces. Liz immediately stepped forward, greeting, "Welcome to the cookie-decorating station! I'm glad to see you guys here! Having a good time so far?"

The one on the right nodded, his thumb in his mouth.

The girl plastered a grin on her face. "Awesome!" She gestured to the frosting. "You can use that to decorate the cookies anyway you want! Just let your creativity out."

The other boy stuck his tongue out at her. "You look funny."

Liz and Gil shared a look, before she laughed it off. "Well, that's definitely true-"

He picked up the piping bag and, before either of them could react, squirted a thick line of pasty orange frosting onto her face. It splattered across her already colored cheeks, draping across the bridge of her nose.

Gil scowled darkly at the boy, stepping forward. "Hey, wait a-"

Liz grasped his shoulder and gave him a stern look. He rolled his eyes and was about to say something when she mouthed, 'I'll take care of this.'

Even though he wasn't exactly happy with this, he nodded grudgingly.

Liz composed herself and smiled at the boys, using the tip of her index finger to swipe a bit of frosting from her face. She stuck it in her mouth, humming in satisfaction. "Yum. But, you know...frosting isn't that cheap, so I don't want you to waste it on me. You'd better use it on your cookie. They taste pretty great, if I say so myself."

They giggled to themselves before peacefully decorating their cookies, drawing smeared smiley faces as they chatted about...well, whatever little kids wanted to talk about. Gil honestly didn't know or care, for that matter.

He grabbed a napkin from a small pile at the corner of the table and used it to quickly wipe the frosting away from her face. "Careful. Can't let you look more ridiculous than you already do."

She looked like she was about to stop him, but reluctantly managed to stand still while he dabbed carefully at the sugary concoction, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Why so embarrassed?" he teased her, laughing to himself when she didn't respond.

As child after child stopped by the station and took a messily-frosted, half-eaten cookie with them, crumbs littering the skeleton-themed tablecloth, Gil was amazed by her sheer willpower and ability to deal with kids.

It was like the devil himself had transformed into a Hungarian banana/angel.

By the time eight PM arrived, parents were trickling in to retrieve their sugar-crazed children up, thanking the club members for a wonderful time as they dragged their screaming sons/daughters out of the room.

Liz's cheeks had turned a deeper shade of tomato red, more and more sweat pouring down her face. Her eyelashes started fluttering, and she was constantly yawning, swaying unsteadily as she dumped dirty paper plates into a nearby trash can.

He tapped her shoulder. "Um, don't want to rub you in the wrong way, but...are you sure you're okay?"

She glared at him, stomping a foot on the ground. "Of course, idiot. I...I can take care of-"

Eyes rolling back into her head, she suddenly keeled over. Reacting as fast as his reflexes allowed him, he sank to his knees and caught her just before she could collapse onto the wooden floor. "Goddammit," he swore, cursing himself for being stupid and not saying something about her condition earlier.

Honestly, that girl was as stubborn as hell.

He placed her on the ground, shaking her shoulders. "Elizaveta! Can you hear me? Liz! Wake up!"

"What's wrong with her?" Natalya peered over from the next station over, still managing to look threatening despite her get-up, sparkly fairy wand in hand.

"No idea," he grunted, propping her up onto his lap and feeling for the zipper on the back of the suit. His sweaty fingers just barely managed to grip it, pulling it down and easing the stuffy outfit off of her. "Can you get your sister over?"

The pyro took off, high heels clattering against the floor. Within moments, a concerned Ms. Braginski was by Liz's side. The woman put a hand on the unconscious girl's forehead, lips pursed into a frown. "She has a really serious fever. I was planning on taking you guys back to the school so your parents could pick you up, but...I'll just place a call to her mom. Do you mind staying with her for a bit longer, Gilbert? Natalya, get an ice pack from the first-aid kit. As fast as possible, please."

Before he could protest, the teacher pulled a cellphone out of her pocket and was dialing a number, pressing the receiver to her ear as she walked away.

He sighed in exasperation and turned his attention back to her. "You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

"Mmmm," she moaned, turning over and pressing her face into his lap.

"Stop it, you." Gil turned her over so she was face-up again. "Do you _want_ to suffocate?"

"Her mom's on her way," Ms. Braginski announced, Natalya by her side. She bent down beside Liz, placing the ice-pack on her forehead before standing back up. "Five minutes or so. She's getting here as fast as she can. Do you think you can carry her?"

He plastered on a confident grin. "Of course I can."

After a few minutes of occasionally adjusting the ice pack and trying not to make how nervous he actually was totally obvious, Gil placed a hand under her legs and swept her up. He tried to keep her balanced on one hip as he lifted her arm and winded it around the back of his neck.

Ms. Braginski eyed him apprehensively, hands clasped together and knuckles turning white. "Is that okay? Need some help?"

"Nah, I'm fine." Her head lolled onto his shoulders, her warm weight uncomfortable but strangely comforting at the same time. He stumbled forward, grunting as he struggled to stay balanced. "God, what the hell do you eat?"

He told himself to pretend like she was a football. A 120-pound football, that is.

They trudged through the hallways, the teacher scurrying nervously after them and babbling about hyperactive children and teenagers not being able to take care of themselves properly, and god, she was just so worried-

"Ms. Braginski," he said simply, a headache already forming. The weight of Liz was enough to occupy his mind.

She took the hint and shut up.

Katarina's banged-up Prius was parked directly in front of the center. She peered out from the window, hurriedly banging on her steering wheel. A sharp honking noise filled the darkness. Gil had to resist the urge to clamp his hands over his ears.

Ms. Braginski rushed forward and, after listening for the click, opened the back door. Gil followed, bending down to brush a crushed McDonald's cup and several crumbs off the worn leather before gingerly placing her on the seat.

Her mother gave him a tired smile. "Thanks for your help, Gil."

"No problem." He fastened Liz's seatbelt before ducking out of the car. "See you tomorrow, Katarina."

The woman winked at him after he closed the door and drove away, tail-lights twinkling merrily at him before fading away in the distance.

He exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his hair.

She was _way_ more trouble than she was worth.


End file.
